An Impossible Task
by Norrington'sLady
Summary: Title changed from 'Never Again.' Will is killed at World's End, but Tia Dalma brings him back, giving him a second chance and a task. But how do you heal a broken heart and can two people who hate each other fall in madly in love? WE and JNOC. Please R
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**- This is just a little idea that popped into my head. It's still forming, and I've got a pretty busy schedule at the moment, so I don't know how quickly I'm going to be able to update. I just wanted to get the first chapter out so I could see what kind of response it would get. Please, please review! If you like this chapter, and you'd like to find out what happens quickly, definitely review, because I can assure you that I'll feel much more inspired to write if I get good reviews ; ). I accept criticism also, but please no flames.

**Summary**- Takes place after AWE. Will, Elizabeth, Barbossa, and crew go to World's End and rescue Jack, but unfortunately Will is killed in the process. Unbeknownst to the others, Tia Dalma brings Will back as she did for Barbossa. She also gives him a task: to write a wrong that he helped bring about.

**Pairings**- Maybe Jack/Elizabeth, maybe Will/Elizabeth…. You'll just have to read and find out won't you… ; ). But whichever it is, this will definitely predominantly be a Norrington/OC fic. I do so love the dashing Commodore… sighs dreamily

**Disclaimer**- Sadly, I do not own anything you recognize from the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. The only thing I _do _own will be an OC that I introduce in a later chapter.

Okay so here it goes. This is my first fic so don't eat me if it's too bad.

**Chapter One**

He gasped, and his eyes popped open wide. Air had never tasted so sweet. He lay on his back, mind working frantically to try and make sense of what was going on as he breathed deeply. He should be dead. His hands clawed at the front of his chest, right where the sword wound should have been. It was as if it had never happened. He sat up and was surprised to find that he felt no pain upon moving. That was a relief. He remembered how unbearable the agony had been in those last few moments before he… died. Or so he thought he had died….

"Ah, so you be awake," came a female voice with a thick Jamaican accent. A voice he knew.

Will looked over to see Tia Dalma walking into the room he was in- a room in her shack, he finally realized it was. She came and sat down in a chair across from the table that he had been laying on. She smiled at him, and a glint appeared in her eye, but she offered know explanation as to why he was still alive.

"What's going on?" he demanded a little shakily. All of this was unnerving him. "How is this happening? I remember… dying."

"Dat be because you did die, William Turner," she replied to him, "But I saw fit to bring you back."

For an instant, he was disbelieving. It was impossible. No one could raise a person from the dead. But then he remembered Barbossa. He had _seen _Barbossa die. He had watched with his own two eyes as Jack shot the bullet into his chest. And yet hadn't Captain Barbossa led them to World's End? He had most certainly been alive then. And Will knew that that had been Tia's doing.

He was thankful, certainly. He had not been ready to die. There were so many things in his life left unresolved. Elizabeth…. Pain that rivaled the pain of his death stabbed into his heart as he thought about Elizabeth, about everything that had passed between them. Did she mourn him? Or was she happy to be free of him? Free to love Jack.

He pushed the agonizing thoughts away from his mind and returned his attention to Tia. "Why?" he asked, "Why did you want to bring me back?" He wondered what her reason would be. What could he be so important for?

"Dhere be more reasons dan one," she explained, "But dee main reason be to right a wrong."

Will's brow drew together in confusion. "What?" He wished she would just explain, tell him clearly what was going on. He didn't think he could handle riddles and cryptic statements just then. "What wrong?" He knew that he had committed many wrongs in his life, but he couldn't think of one right off the top of his head that Tia would be so concerned about.

She smiled at him again. "Patience, William Turner," she drawled, "I will tell you." She paused and looked away for a moment before turning her face back to him. "Not so long ago," she continued, "Your life changed in more ways dan one."

Will barely suppressed his snort. She certainly had that right. Since the day that Jack Sparrow had first come in to Port Royal, that day that they had fought in the blacksmith's shop, his life had been turned upside down. Before that, Will had been a simple blacksmith. He had lived an ordinary life. Nothing fancy to be sure, but he had been content. Or so he thought…. After that he had gone on what seemed like one 'adventure' after another. He had found out that contrary to the teachings of fanciful children's tales, 'adventure' was just another way to say: getting into way too much trouble. There had been one good thing that came from that first 'adventure' though. He had got Elizabeth. Will sighed aloud. Or so he had thought.

"Go on," he said softly when he looked up and found her looking at him. She must have detected that he had been lost in his own thoughts.

"But you also changed others lives," she said after a moment, "Miss Elizabeth Swann for one." The name cut his heart to the core, but he didn't say anything, and she continued. "James Norrington for another."

Will regarded her strangely then. He hadn't expected her to bring up Norrington. In fact, he hardly ever thought of the man anymore. But he supposed he had changed the man's life.

"Dat is de wrong dat I speak of," she continued, "In return for giving you your life back, I want you to help 'im."

"Norrington?" Will said with disbelief, "You want me to help Norrington? That is the wrong that I am to right?"

"Dat be what I said, is it not?" she said with a bit of annoyance, "Just when de Commodore is about to be married his wife-to-be leave 'im for you."

"That's not fair," Will protested, "Elizabeth and I cared for each other before Norrington proposed to her. She loved me. She wouldn't have been happy with him." Had she now decided she would not be happy with him either? Will pushed the question away as he continued. "And I don't think he would have really been happy with her."

"True dat may be," Tia said, "He still be hurt."

Will was a little irritated, but he kept his anger in check. After all, this woman had given his life back to him; the least he could do was hear her out. "And how would you like me to 'right this wrong?'" he asked her.

Tia smiled. "I want you to 'elp James Norrington find love again."

**A/N**- Okay, a little strange idea I know, but I don't think that anyone else here has done one like it, so I thought it was pretty unique. Anyways, I tried to write Tia like how she would sound, but it was a bit hard in parts, so forgive me if it wasn't in character enough. The next chapter will be longer, and I'll try to get it out as soon as I can. Please, please, please, please please times infinity REVIEW!!! Come on. It's not hard. Just press the button. You know you want to. Ta ta for now: )


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**- Thanks to those of you who read, but special thanks to Random Authoress and Jacquotte, my two reviewers! You guys don't know how much it means to me! Anyways, I guess I'll go on with the story. BTW, my disclaimer was in the first chapter; I do not plan on typing it over again. Also, I think I have decided for this story to pair Elizabeth with…. Dun Dun Dun! Will! Like I said before this is primarily going to be Norrington/OC, but there will be some Will/Liz.

**Chapter Two**

Tortuga. The smells, sounds, and sights of the unwholesome city never ceased to amaze, or rather appall, Will. Of course, he was becoming more used to it now, but it was still a place full of strange sensations.

Tia had given him a row boat, and he had rowed away from her little shack. For awhile, he had been alone. He had worried that he would die again, but this time at sea. Then salvation came in the form of a merchant ship called _The Gray Dawn_. They weren't traveling to Port Royal, so Will had asked them to put him off on the coast of Tortuga. It wasn't all that far away from Port Royal, and he figured that he could bargain his way onto a ship.

When he got back to Port Royal was when he knew he would face the real problem. How in God's name was he to find a love for James Norrington?! Shouldn't the man find himself his own wife? Will felt a little abashed after that thought. Norrington would have already been married if not for him. Elizabeth…. Will pushed her to the back of his mind once again. He couldn't think about that now.

He went back to wondering where he would find a woman who was not only suitable for the former Commodore, but he would love him. And of course, Norrington would have to love her. Where was he going to find this woman?

Will walked down the streets, and then he saw a familiar building. It was the tavern that he and Jack had gone to when Jack had first brought him to Tortuga. Those days seemed like an eternity ago, but he could recall clearly the overwhelming fear and anxiety he had felt when thinking about how Barbossa had Elizabeth captive. He would have given his life to save her; he almost had. Had it all been for nothing?

He growled at himself in frustration as he walked into the tavern and went to the bar. "Why do you always have to go back to _that_?" he muttered at himself angrily.

"If you're already talking to yourself," a haughty sounding feminine voice from behind the bar, "I'd say you won't be needing any rum."

Will covered up his embarrassment with anger. "Are you always so polite to your patrons?" he asked sarcastically, "Or am I just lucky?"

The woman's full pink lips turned up in a smirk and she arched one of her dark eyebrows. "And do you always carry on conversations with yourself, or are you just feeling particularly insane today?"

Will decided not to rise to her bait. "Rum," he said simply, ignoring the look she gave him, as he slid a few coins across the bar.

The raven haired woman disappeared only to return a moment later with a full bottle of rum. She filled a glass and passed it to him. "Drink up," she said, unmistakable bitterness tainting her otherwise melodious voice, "You'd have to be drunk to be willing to stay in this dump."

He realized that unlike most of the people who worked at or frequented the many taverns in Tortuga used much less refined language than hers, and she had an accent that made her voice stand out from the others in the tavern. "Well, you don't seem drunk," he said, "Why are you here?"

"I'm here," she said, "Because I had no other options."

Will raised one brow, interested. "Oh really?" he prompted as he took a swig of the rum. It burned on the way down, but he savored it. He was tempted to let himself get good and drunk before the night was over, but he really didn't think he should. He had to get back to Port Royal soon.

The woman sighed. "_Oui_," she said, and he realized that she was French, "Circumstances landed me here, and sadly I have no money to get myself off this God accursed island, which is why I work here. I needed money, and my two options were either barmaid or whore." She fell silent, and Will understood that she wasn't willing to say anything else or go into detail about her past and what had taken her from her home in France. But it was really immaterial to him. He was just trying to make conversation to get his mind off the seemingly impossible task before him and more importantly, Elizabeth. "So what's your name, _mon chere_?" she asked with a sigh after a moment.

"William Turner," he answered, staring down at his now almost empty glass of rum. He looked back up at her. "And yours?"

"Celeste Dubois," she replied. Will decided that she was an attractive woman, certainly not the most beautiful he had seen, but attractive nonetheless. She had very pale and very smooth looking ivory skin that contrasted beautifully with her waist length unbound raven tresses. Probably her most striking feature was her eyes. They were a clear icy blue, and they delivered a rather piercing gaze. Her facial features were soft and delicate, giving her a young appearance. Still, he didn't think her beauty compared with Elizabeth's.

Elizabeth…. Jack…. Elizabeth and Jack….

Briefly- only briefly- he considered using this woman to get back at Elizabeth for what she had done to him. He could be charming when he wanted to be, and Celeste was definitely attractive... But he realized that even if she had been willing, he couldn't do it. Whether Elizabeth was still in love with him or not, he was still hopelessly in love with her. God, help him he was.

He raised his glass to the barmaid. "To you, Celeste Dubois," he said, "May fate bring you better fortune than it has me." He downed the rest of the glass.

She gave a very unladylike snort as she again reached for the bottle of rum. "Fate," she spat disdainfully, "I don't believe in fate. People make their own fortunes, and I, for one, plan to make my way out of here."

A gloomy look came over Will's face. "Well, I haven't done to well at making my own fortune then," he said.

Celeste took a long swig of the rum, finishing off the last of that bottle. Will raised both his eyebrows, impressed that a young woman could handle such a stout drink as rum. She slammed the empty bottle back down on the bar. "Well, then there's to you," she said, "Best of luck for… whatever." She walked off to take care of a few of the other patrons, but she returned soon with another bottle of rum. "Up for more?" she asked.

Will nodded. Whether he was up for it or not, he certainly wanted more. Celeste poured him another glass. "So what are you, William Turner?" she asked, studying him with those ice blue eyes, "Pirate?"

Will barked a short bitter laugh. "You might say that," he said, "But the truth is, I don't really know what I am anymore. Once I was a simple blacksmith, and then…. Well, now I just don't know."

Celeste shrugged. "It's of no importance anyway, I suppose," she said thoughtfully, "What we are. It's who we become in the end that matters." A nostalgic look came into her eyes. "Years ago, I would have never pictured myself serving rum in a tavern in Tortuga of all places." She sighed and looked away. "Well, my shift is up. _Bon chance_, William Turner."

He nodded to her as she walked away. He took another swig of his rum. Was she right? Did people make their own fortunes? Well, if they did he hadn't done such a good job of his yet. He pushed the thoughts away. He didn't want to ponder philosophical questions just then. What he wanted to do was get good and drunk and drown his worries in his rum.

- - - - -

Celeste briskly made her way back towards the tavern where she worked and took up board. Her head darted from side to side, looking for anyone suspicious. She never liked to be out on the streets of Tortuga after dark. It made her nervous. Most of the men were drunk, and they usually mistook her for a prostitute and tried to get… favors. She had always managed to get away unharmed, but she never knew when her luck might run out.

She wished she had never even come to Tortuga. She hadn't wanted to. If only she had more money. Then she could get away from this forsaken place. She had grown up with a very sheltered life, and Tortuga was certainly not a place for lone sheltered young women.

She was jolted from her thoughts when suddenly someone ran into her so hard it knocked her off her feet. Her bottom made contact with the cobble stone streets hard. She yelped with pain. "_Allez a enfer, fils de pute!_" she yelled angrily, "_As-tu perdu la tête?!_"

"Are you drunk?" slurred a voice that she thought she recognized, "'Cause you're not talking right."

Realizing that it was the man she had met in the tavern earlier, she pushed herself back to her feet. "It is you who is drunk, Monsieur Turner," she said, "What in God's name are you doing out in this state."

He appeared confused, as if he himself didn't know exactly why he was out. "I'm… umm… I'm…." He paused. Then he lifted his hand and exclaimed, "A ship! I'm looking for a ship!"

"A ship?" Celeste repeated, "It's the middle of the night, and no captain is going to let you on his ship in the middle of the night as drunk as you are right now."

"It's the middle of the night?"

She sighed exasperatedly. "Yes," she said. She reached out and took his arm. "You're coming back to the tavern with me."

He stopped walking beside her and regarded her warily. "I'm… I'm a married man," he said.

She snorted. "Congratulations," she said sarcastically, "I wonder what your wife would think if she saw you like this, hmm? And I wasn't making any kind of offer aside from a place to sleep off the condition you've gotten yourself into."

That settled him and he let her lead him back to the tavern. Celeste paid for a night's board for him and led him up the stairs to where the rooms were. He stumbled as they walked through the door and nearly brought them both down, but she managed to keep him on his feet, barely. She helped him into the bed.

"Now, you'll have to undress yourself when you're well enough to get up," she said, "I'm not going to take your clothes off for you."

She was surprised to see tears well up in his large brown eyes. "I lied," he mumbled.

Celeste was confused. Her eyebrows drew down in puzzlement. "Lied?" she asked, "What about?"

"I'm not married," he slurred, "I don't have a wife."

"Okay…" she said slowly, "It's okay. You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

"But I don't have a wife."

"I know, but…."

He interrupted her. "We were going to get married." Now it was as if she were not even there. His eyes had a far away look in them. "I was going to have a beautiful, amazing wife, and now…. Now, I don't know. I don't even know where she is." He rolled away from her, facing the wall on his side, and fell silent.

Celeste briefly wondered if there was something she could say, but she quickly decided against it. He was drunk. Who knew if what he was saying was even true. He probably wouldn't even remember his words in the morning. Besides, she didn't even know the man. It was not her place to get involved. She turned and walked out of the room.

- - - - -

**A/N**- Okay, so I've introduced my OC. I hope you guys end up liking her. Since Celeste is French there will be a few French words and phrases. I will tell you at the end of each chapter what each means. Myself, I have only taken French 1 and so therefore, I only speak a little French. The rest I have gotten from the internet, so if one of you guys speak it, feel free to correct me if something is wrong.

Oui- Yes.

Bon chance- Good luck.

Allez a enfer- Go to Hell.

Fils de pute- Son of a bitch.

As-tu perdu la tête- Are you out of your mind?

Please review! I only got two reviews for the last chapter, and I would really like more, so please please please review! I think I will bring in Norrington in the next chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the reviews, ya'll! Keep 'em coming. They're really encouraging! Here's chapter three!

**Chapter Three**

Will woke up the next morning slowly and dazedly. For the life of him, he couldn't remember where he was. He opened his eyes and peered up at the wooden ceiling of a room. _"Well, at least I didn't fall asleep outside in the street," _he thought. He tried to sit up, but immediately regretted it when pain shot through his skull. He groaned and rolled over on his stomach.

"Ah, I believe you are experiencing the ill effects of too much rum, no?" quipped a light female voice from somewhere in the room, "Something very common among our patrons, I think."

Still not very sure of where he was, Will rolled back over…. Too quickly, he found out just as he was executing the action. A wave of overpowering nausea rushed over him, and he knew he was going to be sick. Just as he was about to empty the contents of his stomach, he felt someone grab him by the hair, and a small pale hand held a bowl out in front of him.

When he was finished and his stomach ached like none other, Will wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and looked up. An attractive woman with long midnight black hair and pale blue eyes was staring down at him with one hand on her hips. He knew he should know he she was…. Ah, yes the barmaid! What was her name…? Something French…. Celeste! That was it. He remembered coming to the inn late in the afternoon and speaking with her. Then he had proceeded to get himself very much drunk. "How did I get in here?" he asked groggily.

Celeste rolled her eyes and shook her head. She turned from him and, with a look of feminine disgust, set the bowl on a small table in the corner of the room. "I suppose I'll have to clean that up," she grumbled irritably. Then she murmured something under her breath in French that he wouldn't have been able to understand even if he had been able to hear her properly. Judging by the look on her face, though, he thought he got her meaning. "You are here, William Turner, because I had the good grace enough to drag you in off the streets. You are lucky I did, for if not, you would have awoken this morning stripped of everything you have that is worth anything. Tortuga is certainly not the place to drop unconscious out in the streets." She turned her angry glare on him once again. "So, if you would be so kind as to not sick up all over the place again, I would appreciate it."

Will was overtaken by a blush. "Sorry," he mumbled. Celeste seemed to lose her fire.

"Well," she admitted, "You cannot really help it now, I suppose. The damage was done when you decided to drink too much. You obviously cannot hold your rum."

Will was about to argue indignantly that he could so hold his rum, but with a shake of his head, he though better of it. "What time is it?" he asked instead.

"Almost noon."

Will was surprised he had slept so late, but his surprise immediately gave way to urgency as he had a thought. He _had _to find a ship! He needed to get back to Port Royal. He stood, swaying a little as he was almost overtaken by dizziness, but he quickly righted himself. Obviously, he had slept in his clothes, so at least he wouldn't have to take extra time to get ready. "I need to find a ship," he said hurriedly as he glanced around for the pouch that held all of his money. It wasn't wear he usually kept it on his belt.

He heard a jingle and he looked back to Celeste. "No need to worry, Monsieur Turner," she told him as she hefted his money pouch in one hand, "I have your coin right here. You have quite a large sum."

"Here," he said holding his hand out, "I need that so I can buy passage onto a ship."

Celeste retracted her hand just before Will was able to snatch the pouch. "I want to make a deal with you," she said.

"Just give me my money," he commanded irritably, "I have urgent business, and if I don't go looking for a ship now, all of them will be gone and I'll have to wait until tomorrow for another. I don't have time."

She smiled a bit. "Ah, but I've already taken care of that, _mon chere_," she said, "I spoke with the captain of a ship just this morning. He's a merchant sailor, a rare find in a port such as this, and seems to be a good man. He is sailing his ship, _The Crowned Glory_, east to…." She bit her lip in thought. "Port… Port…."

Will cut her off. Port Royal was to the east of Tortuga. There were other ports to the east also, but there was a chance that this man was taking his ship to Port Royal. "Port Royal?" he asked, "Was it Port Royal?"

"Yes!" Celeste exclaimed, "Port Royal. That was it. This man, Captain Benjamin Taylor is his name, is sailing to Port Royal. I spoke with him this morning, and he is leaving in about an hour's time."

"Then there's no time for me to waste," Will said. A smile spread over his face, but then he remembered her other words. "Wait, what is this deal that you spoke of?"

"I was getting to that," Celeste said with a smirk, "As I said, you have a great deal of money. I want you to buy me passage onto the ship."

Will gaped at her. How could the woman- a woman he had just met- have the audacity to demand such a thing?

She continued in a hurried voice. "I will pay you back. With interest, if you so wish. I'll get a job at this place, this Port Royal, and I will pay you back as soon as I can. I swear it. You have my solemn oath."

Will made a frustrated sound under his breath. "I'm sorry, Miss, but I don't think…."

"Please," she said cutting him off, "I have to get away from this place. It's awful here. I don't know how much longer I can bear it."

Will sighed. The desperation in her voice and eyes was too much for him. He _did _have the money. Tia had given him plenty for his journey. He could afford to buy her passage, and she said she would pay him back. In the end, he knew that he would not be able to turn her down. "Get whatever things you must take and meet me in the common room in twenty minutes."

Celeste smiled. "_Merci, _Monsieur," she murmured happily, "_Merci beaucoup_."

- - - - -

Admiral James Norrington sat at his desk going over some reports that had been brought to him. The duties of an Admiral seemed endless, but still he was happy with his job. Happy to have things set right. No, things were better than right. He was no longer Commodore Norrington. He was something much better. Admiral Norrington. A small smirk graced his lips as he had the thought. He answered only to Beckett.

That last thought reminded him that Lord Beckett had just arrived in Port Royal the day before. James knew that he would be having a visit soon. The thought threatened to banish his good mood. True, it was Beckett who had more than restored his position and dignity, but still, he could hardly stand the man. He was pompous and rude, but more than that there was an unmistakable deviousness and malice in his character that was enough to give James pause around the man. It set him on edge whenever he was in Beckett's company.

He sighed, but he was forced to show the man respect and comply with his orders, for he knew that if he didn't as quickly as he had been promoted to Admiral, he could be demoted… or very likely, worse.

A knock sounded at his office door. "Enter," he said in a deep, clear voice. One of his servants walked into the room.

"Lord Cutler Beckett here to see you, Admiral."

James let his eyelids slide closed for a brief moment and he let out a soft sigh. "Send him in." He hadn't thought that Beckett would show up this soon. He must have something he wanted to discuss. James was far from eager to here what it was.

Before he had much time to ponder, the door opened again and a short, ugly man walked in. Cutler Beckett. James stood and forced a smile to his face. "Ah, Lord Beckett," he said pleasantly as he offered a small bow, "What a pleasant surprise."

"Indeed," Beckett replied coolly, "I had planned on coming to see you sometime later during my stay in Port Royal, Admiral, but something has been weighing on my mind and I had to see you as soon as possible to discuss it."

"Of course," James said, thinking that Beckett had come to discuss a new threat of piracy at sea or some such thing. Something that James could take care of. "What is it?"

"The request I would like to ask of you is of a somewhat personal nature, Admiral, and it would please me greatly if you conceded with my wishes."

James was on his guard, but how much choice did he have. "Yes, of course, Lord Beckett. What is the request?"

Beckett sighed. "As you probably already know, I have a sister. She is thirty-two and unmarried, and is now staying with my wife at my estate in London. She has become a burden to the family. As you are unmarried also, I would greatly appreciate it if you would take her off my hands."

James gaped at him. Beckett came to him to request- no, James could tell by the tone of his voice and his word choice that this was an order- that James marry his sister! James couldn't believe it. "This is no small thing you ask of me," he finally managed.

"I understand that it must be hard, Admiral," Beckett said with a condescending smile, "But she has become such a burden. It is not right for a thirty-two year old woman to be unmarried. You two are close to the same age, and I daresay you would make a good match."

"But I don't even know her."

Beckett scoffed. "Oh, come now, Admiral. Why is that a problem? I never thought you would be one to hold romantic notions. You are not waiting to find _love, _are you?" His tone was mocking.

James regarded him coldly. "Of course not."

"Good," Beckett said with another smile, "It is settled then."

James merely stared at him silently. What could he do? He could say no of course, but was it worth risking his position and everything he had come to value? He would do anything not to return to that dark place he had gone to after he had lost his position as Commodore. He did not want to go back there. So he would marry Beckett's sister. He didn't even know her name.

"I will have her on a ship for here as soon as I can, and then we can set the date for the wedding." Again, James didn't argue. "Look at the time," Beckett continued, suddenly changing the subject, "Have one of your servants bring us in some tea and cigars. We'll chat and have a smoke."

"Of course, Lord Beckett." James thought it odd that at one moment he was one of the most powerful men, someone who didn't have to answer to many at all, and then the next he was transformed to someone who had to run to be at another man's beck and call.

- - - - -

**A/N: **Okay, finished with chapter three! Please review and tell me what you think. I love to get reviews. They make my day!!!

Mon chere- My dear

Merci- Thank you

Merci beaucoup- Thank you very much


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**- Sorry it has been so long since I've updated. I've been really busy. Thank you everyone who reviewed! I appreciate you guys. Remember to always review. It doesn't take that long and it makes the author smile. : )

**Chapter Four**

The sea green waves rolled peacefully as Celeste looked out at the ocean. She was finally away from that accursed island. Once she had worried that she would be stuck there for eternity. That would have been certain death for sure. She didn't know when they would arrive in Port Royal, but she didn't really care. It didn't matter. She was free.

Then the smile slid off her face, and she let her chin drop to rest in her palm as her mood saddened a bit. She shouldn't even be having to do this. She furrowed her brow bitterly. Years ago, she was one of Paris's young darlings, a favorite at all the city balls and parties. Years ago, she was the only child in one of the wealthiest family's in France's capital city. No more.

Her father was Antoine Dubois, a renowned French architect. His father had also been a famous and praised architect who had worked on Louis XV's palace. Having both the inheritance from his father and his own earned money, Antoine was one of the wealthiest, most eligible bachelor's in all of Paris. So most of his friends found it rather odd when he chose to marry Adelaide Marceau, a struggling French opera singer. But he didn't have any living family to object to such a match, so he married her without any problems.

After being married for less than a year, Adelaide became pregnant with their first child. That coming winter, she gave birth to a son. Unfortunately, he was too frail and young to survive his first year, and he died soon after birth. But two years later, Antoine and Adelaide were gifted again, but this time with a daughter. Celeste.

Their only child, she was in a word spoiled. In fact most would have called her quite a bratty child. Far more often than not, she got her way, and when she didn't… well, it was never pretty. Her father, by far her favorite of her two parents, doted on her terribly. If ever he was called upon to leave town, she was always the first one in his arms when he returned, and he never failed to bring a present back for her. "Anything for my little angel," he would say. She could still recall his deep, booming laugh.

Her mother doted on her, but it was different. It was as if Adelaide was trying to live vicariously through her child. She would dress her up in fine clothes and make her out to look like a little porcelain doll. Things she never got to do herself. Celeste, as a young girl, never picked up on this, but as she grew into young womanhood, she began to understand _why _she had always loved her father more.

She grew more mature and less difficult as she got older. And though she still never wanted for much, she demanded trivial frivolities less and less. When she was almost sixteen, her parents formally presented her to society. Coming from the wealthy family that she did, she was immediately a favorite among the young bachelors. But she never found one that she wanted to marry. True, some of them were nice and charming, but she just didn't get that… feeling. Since she was still young, her parents didn't press her to get married yet. There would be time for that later.

Or so they thought.

In the summer of her seventeenth year, authorities found the beaten and bruised body of Celeste's father discarded carelessly in an alleyway. As far as they could tell, he had become too inebriated at the bar that night and a few street thugs had decided to take advantage of his state. They took away all the money he had on him… and his life. Celeste cried herself sick for days. How cruel this was! Her father was not a man who got drunk often. He could hold his liquor with the best of them. The one night he outdid himself, just happened to be the night that some vicious miscreants were out.

To her outrage, her mother spent only two months- _two months!_- mourning her dead father before marrying a second time. Celeste couldn't understand it. How could she get over her dead husband so easily? Nor could Celeste understand her mother's choice in husband.

Her stepfather was Pierre Flaubert, a struggling painter who had until then lived in the dirtiest slums in Paris. He was an alcoholic with a temper. And there was something suspicious about him that Celeste did not like one bit. Little did she know, she had a very good reason to hate him.

Life went on for a year, and neither Celeste nor Adelaide suspected the depth of Pierre's treachery. But at the end of that year when he left them without a cent of their former riches, it was too late. He had squandered away their fortune on drink and whores. And then he left. And they were left alone.

Celeste was furious with her mother, even to the point of hating her. None of this would have happened if not for her. But she couldn't leave her alone. No, not when she was so terribly afraid of being alone herself.

All the high society friends that they had met over the years, disdainfully turned up their noses when the mother and daughter came seeking help and a place to stay. Celeste's prospective suitors suddenly wanted nothing to do with her. Everything seemed hopeless. They stayed on the streets for two nights until they came to an old rundown bar. The owner offered them rooms and meals if they would work for them as maids. Both women readily agreed.

But only two weeks later, Adelaide died. The doctor said her sickness was stress related, an illness of the mind. Celeste spent no time weeping for her loss. She had long ago figured out that she harbored no deep feelings for her mother. Instead, she threw herself into working, not concentrating on how alone she was. Her wages went to the bar's owner of course, to pay for her room, but whatever small tips she earned, she saved.

It took her three years, but by then she had enough money to buy passage on a ship. The ship she found was headed for the islands owned by Great Britain in the Caribbean. It was not a place that Celeste had ever longed to go, but if it would get her away from that place, all those awful memories. Anywhere would be better than there.

But she came to find out just the opposite. There were places worse than where fate had thrown her.

The voyage went well for the most part. Well, she was seasick most of the time, but other than that things were fine. But one night they were waylaid by pirates. She didn't remember much of the attack at all. In fact the only thing she could recall was waking up on a piece of driftwood. A chill ran through her body as she remembered the horror that had clawed at her belly when she thought she would never see land again. But luckily it had been a brief feeling, for when the morning mist cleared, she found herself looking on a sight for sore eyes. Land. Hope.

God, was she ever wrong.

Tortuga.

And that was how she ended up where she was when she met Will.

Now, she was a twenty-one year old woman with no family, no husband, no money. She gave a short bitter laugh. She was pitiful. Utterly pitiful. And that she hated more than anything. She wondered what she would have to work as in order to pay Will back the money for her passage. Not a barmaid. No, never a barmaid. If one thing was certain, she would _not _put herself through that for a third time. But then, she wasn't really qualified for anything. She had never expected that she would have to work to earn her living. Now, as she had that thought, it made her sound like a snotty little brat. She wondered what people must have _really _thought about her when she was a child.

"Well, I'll just have to make do," she sighed to herself as she straightened up, "I have dealt with problems before." She drew herself up to her full height, which was only about five feet and two inches, but there was no one else with her that she had to compare herself to, so she felt rather formidable.

She took a deep breath and spread her arms out parallel with the deck. "_Enfin je suis libre!_" she cried out. She didn't care if any of the passing crew members thought she was mad. She laughed as she repeated the phrase, and a smile spread across her face.

"What, planning on flying away?" asked an amused voice from behind her.

Celeste whirled, pale cheeks stained crimson. She did her most to cover her embarrassment with a scowl. "You startled me, Monsieur Turner," she told him coldly, still glowering, "You should not sneak up on people so."

Will flashed her a triumphant smile. He was most likely happy that now he was the one who got to do the embarrassing rather than the other way around. Celeste couldn't stay mad for long though. It was good to see him smile. It wasn't something she had seen him do often. She couldn't be sure, but she thought it might have something to do with what he had been babbling the night he was drunk.

_"We were going to get married," _he had slurred, _"I was going to have a beautiful, amazing wife, and now…. Now, I don't know. I don't even know where she is." _

She didn't think that something so specific could have been the mindless ramblings of a man temporarily out of his senses. There was a woman somewhere out there who Will was still madly in love with. He hadn't said anything about her since that night, and she wasn't sure that she would ever be able to get anything out of him. But often he had a certain look on his face, a mix of frustration and despair. It made her sad for him. Will was a good man. She could already tell that. He deserved a good woman who loved him.

"It will be time to dine soon," he said, calling her from her thoughts, "I came to fetch you to the galley."

"Oh," she replied, "I must have lost track of time. I was thinking."

Will was curious. "What about?"

"Ah, ah, ah, _vous êtes fouineur_," she murmured, shaking her finger at him. Will rolled his eyes exasperatedly at her use of her native language. She spoke in French frequently when she was around him, for she knew he didn't speak it and it irked him when he didn't understand what she was saying. She could be rather mischievous at times.

"May I ask what that meant?" he asked, an undercurrent of irritation in his voice.

Celeste smiled. "You are nosy."

He looked down, faint color in his cheeks. "Oh."

She smiled again. "You haven't talked of your past, Will," she said, "And although I'm curious, I suppose I'll have to wait, if I even find out anything about you. And I think that for as long as you keep me in the dark about who exactly you are, I shall keep you in the dark about who exactly I am."

"What is there to know about me?" Will laughed, "I'm William Turner, former blacksmith of Port Royal."

"Don't insult my intelligence by implying that there is no more to your story than that," she called to him over her shoulder as she pranced away towards the galley. She thought it best not to bring up his woman. She knew that if she tried to speak of that, he might and probably would become and angry with her or at the least withdraw totally. She would wait for him to speak of his past. They had only known each other for a few days anyway.

If he decided not to talk to her about his past, she was sure she could find out something about him in Port Royal. Townspeople talked, especially if there was a bit of juicy gossip to spread, and Celeste had been trained in Paris's high society on how to get the best tidbits of gossip. That was one area where she knew what she was doing.

As she and Will walked down to the galley for dinner, she found herself wondering again about what her life would be like in Port Royal. Will spoke of it fondly, and he assured her that it was nothing like Tortuga. She was sure that it would be nothing like the splendor of Paris, but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe she would like it there. Maybe she would like it enough to stay and start her life anew.

Later that night, she found out that she wouldn't have to wait long to discover what Port Royal would be like. Captain Taylor announced that they would be making berth there in two days at the most.

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**A/N**- Sorry not much happened in this chapter. You did get to find out about Celeste's back story. Next chapter will be in Port Royal. Hopefully I'll have it out soon.

Enfin je suis libre- Finally I am free

Vous êtes fouineur- You are nosy


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N- **Sorry it's been awhile since I updated this. I've been quite busy lately what with the end of the semester approaching. But I'll try to get the updates up sooner from now on, just don't hold it against me if I get busy again : )

**Chapter Five**

Will studied Celeste as she stood at the prow, looking out at the ever closer Port Royal. They could make out the bustle of sailors at the docks. Soon, they would arrive, maybe an hour at most. Celeste bit her thumb nail as she looked out to the city. She bounced on the balls of her feet, and Will could tell that she was both excited and nervous. He supposed she had a right to be. It must be quite unnerving having to start over in a new place, and she had already had a bad time of Tortuga.

He wondered again what had made her leave her homeland. Of course, she hadn't said anything of it yet. She maintained that until he told her more of his past, she would tell him nothing of hers. He wondered why she was so sure that there was much more to his story than what she knew. He never had been good at hiding things. But at any rate, he did not want to talk about what had happened in his life since he first met Jack. He certainly didn't want to talk about Elizabeth. He wasn't ready for that yet.

"What will I do?" Celeste asked suddenly, breaking into his thoughts.

Will drew his brows together. "What?"

"What will I do to pay you back?" she said, "For passage to Port Royal. Where will I work?"

Will shrugged. "I don't know. I guess…."

She interrupted him. "I am _not _working in another tavern," she said vehemently, shaking a finger at him, "_Pas au-dessus de mon corps mort_!"

Will shook his head, not bothering to ask what her French words had meant, for she never told him. "Okay so no tavern maids," he mumbled, "But I'm sure there will be something for you to do."

She nodded, satisfied for that moment.

He allowed himself a smile small as he continued to watch her. The days that they had spent together on the ship had actually been… joyous to him. Or rather, as close to joyous as he had felt in what seemed an eternity. The feelings that Celeste roused in him were pale in comparison to those that arose when Elizabeth smiled at him, or touched him… or was simply present…. But as it were, he had come to think of the mysterious young French woman as a good friend, almost like the sister he never had.

"You will like Port Royal much better than Tortuga, I believe," he said after a moment, wishing to reassure her.

Her icy blue eyes studied him skeptically. He knew she was wondering whether or not to believe his words, and he wished she would just listen to him. Port Royal was nothing like Tortuga. Celeste pursed her lips, then slowly nodded. "Mmmhmm," she murmured, turning her head back around to look at the still closer city of Port Royal.

Abruptly, she let out a frustrated huff and stomped her foot. "It is taking too long!" she exclaimed angrily, "Why cannot we just get there and get this over with?!" She scowled at him as if _he _were solely responsible for the pace of the ship. Then she launched off into a tirade in French that left his head spinning.

He crossed his arms across his chest and raised his eyebrow as he watched her. "Finished?" he asked when she finally ceased speaking.

She let out a heavy sigh. "As of right now?" she said one eyebrow raised haughtily over her cold blue eye, "_Oui_."

"Good, because I believe we will be making port soon." Will smirked triumphantly at her startled expression.

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"Everything seems to be in good order, Captain Taylor," Norrington commended as he overlooked the cargo of the _Crowned Glory_. The merchant trading ship had arrived a few moments before, and it held many of the things that James knew they needed, but none of his internal pleasure showed on his face.

"Always glad to please, Admiral," Taylor said in his gruff voice. He dipped his head once and nervously ran his thick fingers back through his dark hair.

"Mmmhmm," James replied unemotionally. His calculating green eyes turned away from the captain to survey his crew. They all looked like capable and obedient men. "It looks like you run a good ship here, Captain," he said, complimenting Captain Taylor.

Taylor opened his mouth to reply, but he didn't have enough time to express his gratitude, for at that moment something else caught James's eye.

No.

It couldn't be.

James's green eyes widened in astonishment. It was so unlikely, so improbable…. He hadn't seen William Turner in a long time. In fact, it had been almost a year since their last meeting. But here the man was in the living, breathing flesh.

A shock of memories flew through James's consciousness. Painful memories. Memories that he had locked away and didn't need to resurface. He was sent back to that fateful day when he was promoted to commodore. That was when it had all begun. He recalled his proposal to Elizabeth and then her fall. The occurrences of that day had sent them all spiraling into a new life. Then he remembered that dark, horrible time after he resigned his commission and took up residence in Tortuga. He had to suppress a shudder as he thought about it. He could hardly believe that he had let himself sink that low. Luckily, his former prominence was now restored.

But not without a price.

Lord Beckett was on his way to retrieve his sister and bring her back to Port Royal. His bride. James had still not fully gotten over Elizabeth. He didn't want to marry another. But what could he do?

All those thoughts ran through his mind in a second's time. He turned back towards Captain Taylor. "That man there," he said, gesturing towards Will, "Did he come with you?"

Taylor looked in the direction quickly and then turned back. "Aye, sir," he replied, "Mr. Turner and the young lady, Miss Dubois, bought passage on my ship in Tortuga."

Dark brows furrowing, James turned his head back towards Will. That was when he first noticed the young woman with him. The two of them seemed to be in an argument of some sort, and the young woman- Miss Dubois, he assumed- did not look pleased at all. She stood about a head shorter than Will and had to crane her neck to glare up at him. Her slender white arms were crossed under her breasts in a manner that left no doubt as to her present mood.

But the foremost person on James's mind at that moment was Will. He would have information about the others. What had become of Jack Sparrow? Was that bastard finally dead? And what of Elizabeth? James felt a tightening in his chest. Despite how she had wronged him, he hoped against all hope that she was still alive and well. He prayed that he might see her again.

"Mr. Turner," he said, approaching the two of them, "And what brings you back to Port Royal?" It was an extreme effort to school his features and maintain his emotionless expression. He wanted to start in on his questioning, but he knew that that would be no good.

Will quickly turned away from the woman and faced James with a surprised look. The surprise melted away into barely suppressed anger. "Admiral Norrington." That was what James had expected. Since Elizabeth had chosen Will over him, things had been rather strained between them. And then the fight on Isla Cruces had only made things worse. Especially since James had made off with the heart.

"Well?" James prompted, raising an eyebrow coolly.

A small sound of disapproval caused him to glance to the young woman. Her elegant black eyebrows were drawn down over her cold blue eyes, and she looked even more displeased now than she had when she was arguing with Will. _She is pretty_, he thought. Not the most beautiful woman he had ever seen but pretty enough. Her long raven tresses, flowing unbound over her shoulders, provided perfect contrast with her starkly pale skin, and she had a pretty face with small, fox-like features.

Then she let out a laugh and said in a thick French accent, "_Vous moyen pour me dire que ce porc anglais chichiteux est l'amiral de la marine britannique royale?"_ She glanced at him from the corner of her eye with a small giggle. "_Oh svp!"_

James's ears burned with embarrassment. The young _chit _obviously didn't know that he spoke French. How dare she speak of him so! Prissy?! Certainly not. He knew by the growing smile on her face that his face must have been crimson. Trying to compose himself, he cleared his throat. _"Je suis l'amiral, mademoiselle. Un 'porc anglais' je peux etre, mais au moins je ne suis pas un francais de depourvu de tact... ou femme dans ce cas-ci."_

A smirk played across his face when her jaw dropped in surprise. She certainly hadn't been expecting that. Her face turned red, and at first she scowled at him, but then her anger seemed to give way to embarrassment. She stuttered for a moment then turned away with a quiet sniff.

A muffled chuckle sounded from Will, and James then turned back to him. He appeared on the border line of busting out laughing. He barely brought himself under control when he looked back up at James. "Admiral, this is Celeste Dubois, a friend of mine," he said. His eyes were still cold as he spoke to James, but they did not hold the rage that they had before. "We met in Tortuga and bought passage onto Captain Taylor's ship."

Tortuga. James had spent long enough on that God forsaken rock to know that it was no savory place. Of course, he did not expect anything more from Will, knowing what he had become. He turned his eyes to Miss Dubois once more. She was turned away from the two of them, refusing to meet his gaze. He wondered what kind of woman she must be to have been in Tortuga. There were precious few things a woman could do in Tortuga to make a living.

James once again turned his attention back to Will. He sighed. This wasn't going to be easy for him. He didn't particularly want to be friendly with William Turner, but he did want answers. "Mr. Turner, I know that our past isn't exactly… the best, but maybe tonight you and Miss Dubois would like to join me at my home for dinner."

Will eyed him warily. No doubt he was surprised by the sudden show of kindness when often he had received hostility from James. Finally, he answered, "I suppose that wouldn't be a problem." He glanced towards Celeste who appeared outraged, but Will still didn't change his answer.

James allowed himself a small smile. "Good. Do you have living arrangements? I could send a carriage."

"Actually," Will said slowly, "We do not. I was just going to look for a decent tavern to stay in."

"No need," James said, "It is late. Tonight, the two of you may stay in my estate. There are enough rooms. It would be easier to find decent rooms tomorrow." Maybe he was being so kind because if his observations from when he was a crewman on the _Black Pearl_ were correct- and he was fairly sure they were- then Will, too, had been burned by loving Miss Elizabeth Swann. That was one thing they shared.

Will still appeared ill at ease to accept but finally he did. "Well, I have a few more things to take care of here," James said after they had talked for another moment or two, "But I will send for a carriage to take you to my home so you two may freshen up before dinner."

"Thank you, Admiral Norrington," Will replied. He smiled slightly. It seemed somewhat forced, but it was still a smile. "This is very kind of you." He gave Celeste a meaningful look.

She shot him a furious scowl before turning stiffly to James. She dropped into a quick but well performed curtsy. "_Oui_, very kind indeed," she said in a clipped, irritated tone, "_Merci, Monsieur._"

James had to stifle a chuckle, but he couldn't keep the smirk from his face. "I'm glad you have decided to accept." He looked at Will pointedly. "I believe we have some catching up to do, Mr. Turner."

----------

"What in Christ's name are you thinking?!" Celeste exclaimed when she and Will were in the carriage safely away from _Admiral Norrington_, "Stay in his home?! Why on earth would we do that?! I don't think I could stand staying under the same roof with that man! Did you see how he kept smirking at me? Arrogant, prissy fool!"

"He did not smirk at _you _any more than he would at anyone else," Will replied firmly, "And we don't have many options, so if you want shelter for the night, you will stay in Norrington's estate. Accept it."

Celeste glowered at him and let out a frustrated growl. She was seething, not at Will but at Admiral Norrington. How dare he humiliate her that way! It was preposterous! Of course, she had called him a prissy English pig, but how was she to know that he spoke French and would understand every word. That was no reason to call her tactless. She had tact. Of course, she did.

Will chuckled causing her glare to become even more heated. "You didn't expect him to know what you were saying did you?" he asked, still laughing.

"No," Celeste admitted grudgingly, "He caught me off guard. It was not fair in the least."

Will's laugh grew louder. "What _did_ you say?" he asked once he had himself under control.

She blushed slightly. "I called him a prissy English pig."

Will broke out in raucous laughter, much louder than it had been before. "No wonder his face was so red!" he exclaimed through bouts of laughter, "Prissy! I'm sure James Norrington isn't used to people calling him such things… to his face that is." He laughed uproariously for a few more minutes before finally asking, "And what was his reply to that?"

Celeste's blush deepened. "He said I was tactless."

Will shrugged with a chuckle. "Well, if the shoe fits…."

That was the last straw for her. She hauled off and slammed her fist into Will's shoulder. Hard. Growing up, she hadn't had much training in fighting, but after her step-father squandered away her inheritance and she was condemned to the streets, she had learned a great many things that a proper young lady should never have to know. "I am not tactless!" she yelled as he rubbed his aching shoulder, "I'll have you know that I was raised in the finest Parisian society! A great many things I may be, but tactless I am not."

Will gave her a level look as he continued to rub his arm. "Oh, yes, now I see," he said, sarcasm evident in his voice, "That was very… _tactful_."

"You are infuriating, _Monsieur_," Celeste growled angrily. Then she turned away to stare out the carriage window. At least she would have a proper bed tonight. And not one that rolled and bounced with the waves. She was extremely happy to be on dry land again. Admiral Norrington's house was sure to be very comfortable. But still, she didn't know how much she would enjoy being under the same roof as that pompous man.

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**A/N- **Alrighty tell me what you guys think. You know reviews make my day. Even criticism, as long as it's constructive and not just hurtful. I want to hear your opinions. And I'll try to update soon. : )

_Pas au-dessus de mon corps mort- _Not over my dead body

_Vous moyen pour me dire que ce porc anglais chichiteux est l'amiral de la marine britannique royale?- _You mean to tell me that this prissy English pig is the Admiral of the British Royal Navy?

_Oh svp_- Oh please!

_Je suis l'amiral, mademoiselle. Un 'porc anglais' je peux etre, mais au moins je ne suis pas un francais de depourvu de tact... ou femme dans ce cas-ci.- _I am the Admiral, Miss. An 'English pig' I may be, but at lest I am not a tactless Frenchman... or woman, in this case.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N- **My sincere thanks to those of you who reviewed. As always, your words are appreciated.

**Chapter Six**

The metallic sound of forks clanging softly on plates was the only sound that could be heard in the large dining hall, accompanied with the occasional scurrying to and fro of a servant. The three who occupied the table all shifted awkwardly at intervals. James cleared his throat, wishing for nothing more than this uncomfortable dinner to be over with. Of course, he had not expected the evening to go perfectly, but he had thought he would be able to cope with the situation a little better.

Not for the first time that night, he stole a look at Miss Dubois out of the corner of his eye. At first glance, she appeared rather at ease with the situation, but when he looked harder, it was obvious that she would rather be anywhere but there. There was a stiffness in her posture that told him that she wasn't in the least bit comfortable, and at the corners of her eyes was a tightness that signified tightly bottled up anger. Also, she made subtle gestures and sighs that let him know just how unhappy she was. He smirked. It served her right.

James wondered about her. The way she held herself at the table and the manners she showed while eating and drinking spoke of an aristocratic upbringing, but… then why had Will picked her up in Tortuga? He knew enough about that place, both from hearsay and experience, that a young lady from a respectable family would have no business there.

Seeing that Will had finished his meal, James pushed himself back from the table and said, "Mr. Turner, what do you say to a smoke in the parlor?" He still had not gotten his answers.

Will too seemed relieved that the awkward dinner was at last coming to a close. After an instant of consideration, he nodded, also standing. "Yes, Admiral, I believe a smoke might do me good."

Both of the men looked to Celeste when her chair scraped backwards, and she too stood. "Well, since you are both going," she began, "I suppose I'll…."

But James interrupted her. "Miss Dubois, you must be tired after your journey," he said, ignoring the look of indignation on her face, "I'll have the head maid, Mrs. Pierson, show you up to your room."

"But, I…."

He once again cut her off. "Mrs. Pierson!" A rotund old woman came bouncing into the dining room.

"Yes, Mr. Norrington?"

"Please show Miss Dubois up to her room and help her get settled in for the night."

"Yes, sir."

James could still hear Celeste's furious protests as the old maid led her away. He knew that he had greatly angered her, but he couldn't say that he really cared. He needed to talk to Will, and he wasn't in the mood for that ill tempered French chit to get in the way. Besides, it wasn't custom for the ladies to follow the men out to the parlor after dinner anyway.

He was surprised when he looked over and saw an amused grin lighting Will's face. Will glanced over at him and saw him looking. "You roused her temper," he chuckled lightly, "Although that is something that isn't extremely difficult to do, I have found."

"So it would seem," James replied with smirk of his own, "She must have been an… interesting… traveling companion."

Will snorted. "Interesting doesn't cover it."

James pulled open the door to his parlor and followed Will into the room. It was a comfortable room, not as big and spacious as some but not small either. The furnishing was tasteful, not overly extravagant but elegant. James went to sit down in one of the cozy chairs, and Will took his seat across from him on the settee. There was a long moment of silence, reminiscent of the unease experienced at dinner, after the two men had lit their cigars. James was at a loss as to what to say to start the conversation off in the direction he wanted it to go. What could he say? Anything he said about Elizabeth was sure to make the situation even more uncomfortable than it already was. The fact that she was not with Will paired with the fact that he had not mentioned her the whole evening told James that something was amiss with the happy couple. And he feared that the other subject that he wanted to bring up that evening, the detestable Jack Sparrow, had something to do with it. He had observed and learned a few things during the short time he was on the _Black Pearl_.

But luckily for James, Will decided to take the plunge. "I believe there is a reason more than your goodness of heart for having invited me here, Admiral."

James sighed, but he was thankful for the opening. "Yes, there is, but first I would like to say that I believe we have been through enough together that there is no need to stand and ceremony and call me by title. You may call me by my given name if you so wish." The experience of sinking down to one of the lowest beings on earth had made James ecstatic about having the title of Admiral, but he thought that this situation called for less formality.

Will appeared to consider it, but finally he nodded. "Yes, I suppose we have been through a lot together… James." A dark, hurt look came into his eyes. It was only there for the barest instant, but James didn't miss it. "And we have a few things in common."

"Elizabeth," James whispered softly, understanding what that last cryptic statement meant, "Will, tell me what happened at World's End."

Will looked away as he took a long pull on his cigar. As the smoke billowed out in the air, James read the expression on his face, and for a moment he thought the other man might crumple in anguish, but again, the emotion was gone almost as quickly as it came. He took the cigar out of his mouth and looked back at James. "Well, you of course know of _Lord Beckett's_…." The name was spat with utter hatred… and James couldn't blame him, nor could he say that he felt much differently. "… Plan to eliminate piracy in not only the Caribbean but the world. With the heart of Davy Jones, he knew that his plan would be much easier to execute." At this there was an accusatory look, and James sought to defend himself.

"I did what I thought I had to do."

Will nodded slowly but did not acknowledge the comment further. "With Davy Jones in league with Beckett, it was harder to find and rescue Jack," he continued, "But with Barbossa leading us, we sought help from pirates of all corners of the world, but this too you already know." Indeed, being just a step below Beckett in authority of the sea, James did know much of the details of Beckett's plan to eradicate piracy, but he had not been at World's End to witness much of the goings on. "At World's End after we had reunited with Jack there was a large battle." Will paused for a long time, and James almost thought he wasn't going to continue, but finally he did. "I was… wounded badly and separated from the rest. I found my way to Tortuga, and now here I am."

"Elizabeth? And… Jack?" James asked, cringing.

Will gave him a level look. "I hope they are happy together."

"You mean, they…?" James didn't really want to know the answer, but he had to ask. If Elizabeth could not choose him then he would at least rather her be with a man whom he had some amount of liking for, not that… that… bloody pirate!

Will let out an exasperated breath and stood quickly. "They became quite close after Jack sold me out to Davy Jones. Didn't you notice?" Although he had noticed, James decided that that was a question that needed no answer. "I hope she's finally found what she really wants."

James didn't know if Elizabeth would ever be satisfied with a man. She was far too free spirited and flighty. Elizabeth Swann was a bird that no one would ever be able to cage. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that although beautiful in body and in spirit, Elizabeth would have never been the wife he wanted. That realization made the rejection a little more easy for him, but how would Will cope with it. "Then, Miss Dubois, are you and she…?"

Will laughed slightly and shook his head. "No. Celeste is beautiful, and I like her, to be sure, but I don't think I could ever feel about her what I have felt for Elizabeth. Celeste is more like a younger sister that I never had. While, Elizabeth, she's… she's her."

That was the truth for sure. "And you don't know where either of them are now?"

"No," Will replied, shaking his head, "I thought maybe you might since you are so close with Beckett." Again the accusatory look. "Have you spoken with him lately?"

As James nodded, his mind drifted back to the conversation he had had with Beckett, back to when he learned of his new betrothed. "Yes, I spoke with him, but it was very brief, and he mentioned nothing of that. He is gone now, but he will be returning in a few weeks time."

"Gone?" Will prompted, "Where to?"

"Back to England… to retrieve his sister, my fiancée," James replied woodenly. Lady Jane Beckett was to be brought back to Port Royal, after which their wedding would take place punctually.

"Fiancée?" Will uttered incredulously, "I had no idea you were engaged."

"Yes, it's something that I just learned of recently myself," James replied sullenly.

Will nodded slowly, a deep look of understanding in his eyes. Silence descended over them as they finished their cigars, both content to smoke in the quiet.

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**A/N-** Hope you guys liked this chapter. Please review! I really want to know your opinions.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N- **As you have all noticed, I have changed the title. I had intended on incorporating something with the title 'Never Again,' but 'An Impossible Task' seemed to fit better. Sorry if there was any confusion. And as always, thanks for your reviews.

**Chapter Seven**

"The nerve!" Celeste was furiously unpacking her belongings, while Mrs. Pierson followed on her heels. Celeste was unaware of almost everything around her, so rather than being placed neatly, her clothes, necessaries, and such were thrown helter-skelter all over the room. Mrs. Pierson made an effort to tidy things up, but after a while the old maid made the conclusion that it was of absolutely no use.

"_Cet homme est absurdement intolérable_!" Celeste exclaimed in her native tongue as she tossed one of her dresses on the floor, "_Et les hommes anglais se glorifient sur leur conscience de convenance. Bah ! Convenance mon ass. Cet homme n'est pas approprié du tout._"

"Excuse me, Miss," Mrs. Pierson panted as she bent to retrieve the discarded dress, "But I don't understand a word of what you're saying. Could you speak in English please?"

Only then did Celeste remember that she was not alone in the room. Her pale cheeks turned a dark shade of pink. "Forgive me, Mrs. Pierson," she said hastily, "I am so used to speaking French that I often forget that I am no longer in Paris." She glowered as she continued. "I was only speaking of your _infuriating _master!"

"Mr. Norrington isn't quite so bad as you believe," the older woman said with evident fondness towards the man in her voice, "He is a good gentleman, to be sure."

"Gentleman!" Celeste shouted with indignation, "A gentleman, you say?! Ha! Forgive me, but I laugh at that remark. I witnessed nothing gentlemanly about him. _Gentleman_."

"Well, he _did _invite you to stay in his home," Mrs. Pierson remarked. She kept her eyes on the clothes that she was unpacking, but Celeste knew that had she looked up, she would have seen pure, unadulterated anger in her eyes. She stared at the maid. How could someone be so loyal and protecting of a man like Admiral Norrington?

"So he did," she finally admitted, "But, I apologize again, _I _did not mark him as a gentleman."

"You mustn't judge him so quickly, Miss Dubois," Mrs. Pierson continued, "True, he has a cold and unfeeling exterior, and it seems as though he would rather someone think him heartless than know his true self. But he is a good, kind man. He has always been good to us servants. Wonderfully kind."

Celeste 'hmmphed' in answer. Then she said, "Well, I have always prided myself in being a good judge of character, even on first impressions."

"Forgive me if I have been too bold, Miss," the head maid said as she put away a final item and moved to the door, "Goodnight."

Celeste thought as she looked at the closed door. Years ago, back in Paris, she would have backhanded any of her servants who had dared to argue with her. It _was _being too bold. But now, she hadn't even thought of reprimanding Mrs. Pierson, much less hitting her for her forwardness. She supposed that that was what living on the streets had done to her, one of the only good effects. It was difficult to imagine how horrid she must have been at times when she was still one of Paris's finest young ladies. She knew she had been terribly spoiled and always expected to have her way…. Well, things had certainly changed.

"Things would have been so different if Father hadn't died," she sighed sadly as she changed into her nightgown, "I would have a family of my own by now." She could see it oh so clearly. There she would be in her fine house in Paris with a young, good husband and maybe even a few children. Would she have been happy then? She sighed again. "I suppose I'll never really know." There was no way she would be able to return to the way of life she had experienced before. Now, she was part of the lower class, and it was much easier to move down the ladder than up.

Banishing the solemn thoughts from her mind, Celeste moved to her bed. She reached over to the small table beside the bed where she had laid her favorite book. Shakespeare's _Twelfth Night _was sitting beside the flickering candle, and she picked it up, cradling it lovingly in her arms. The novel had been one of the only ones out of her collection that she had been able to keep after being evicted from her home and having many of her belongings repossessed back in Paris.

After she had been taught to read, she had quickly advanced onto such things as Shakespeare's plays, and she thought he was a literary genius. She liked _A Midsummer Night's Dream_, _The Merchant of Venice, The Taming of the Shrew, _and _Two Gentlemen of Verona_, but _Twelfth Night _was by far her favorite. She loved the chaos that was produced by the separation of the twins, Viola and Sebastian, and Viola masquerading as a man. The struggles that the heroine went through made Celeste laugh and feel for her.

Celeste fondly stroked the worn leather cover, then opened it up to the first page of Act One, Scene One.

"If music be the food of love, play on…."

_Knock. Knock. Knock. _

The incessant tapping called Celeste from her sleep. She stretched with a groan and realized that she had fallen asleep reading. The awkward position in which she had spent the night had rewarded her with a sore neck and limbs. She groaned again.

"Miss Dubois?" came a deep, male, and utterly irritating voice from the other side of the door. Admiral Norrington.

"Yes, Admiral?" she said through gritted teeth. She didn't care what Mrs. Pierson said. The man was infuriating. He hadn't done anything precisely this morning… but she was sure he would.

"Breakfast has been prepared," he said after a moment, "A place will be set for you should you like to come down for some."

Celeste brought a hand to her stomach and rubbed it. Even though she had just eaten the night before, she felt that she needed to make up for all the decent meals she had lost since her family's downfall. "I will be down in a moment," she answered hurriedly as she jumped from the bed. She could already taste the warm breakfast.

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"You want me to turn down someone looking for a job when I just happen to _need _help around my shop?" The middle aged woman, a busy seamstress in Port Royal, looked at Will incredulously.

He nodded. "Precisely." A plan was formulating in his mind, and if he wanted to go through with that plan, it was dire that Celeste not find a job.

"Now, just why would I do that?"

"Mrs. Richards," Will said patiently, trying to persuade the seamstress without telling her the whole story. Then she would think he was daft. "Please, do this for me. It is important. Just, if a young, attractive, Frenchwoman comes in here seeking a job, tell her 'no.' I'm sure someone else would like to be your apprentice."

After much persuasion, not to mention some coin, Will finally obtained Mrs. Richards' compliance. _Good, _he thought, _Now I just need to go and see how many other places are looking for help and speak to the owners. _He wasn't sure if he should bypass all the taverns or not. Celeste seemed deadest against being a barmaid again, but would she prefer that to what he had in mind for her? Seeing the way she and James had interacted told him that she would. And he could not let that happen.

Before he had left Tia to go and find Norrington and complete the task that he was assigned he had asked her many questions, but he had saved the most important for last.

_Just as he was about to push the boat off the dock, Will stopped. "Wait, Tia!" he called. _

_Tia Dalma turned back to him. "Yes, William Turner?"_

"_How will I know what woman is right for him?" he asked. That was the baffling question. What was he supposed to do? Walk up to some random woman and ask her if she would marry the former commodore? Maybe that would work, but… it seemed doubtful that that would be the best choice. _

_Tia smiled slyly. "When you find 'er," she said slowly, "You will know." Then she turned and walked away. _

Will had still been baffled after that. How was he supposed to just _know_?! The suggestion was preposterous. He couldn't simply _know _if a woman was right for Norrington.

But when he had seen the Admiral and Celeste together… he had sensed a… chemistry. Yes, the only words they exchanged were stiff comments and insults, but something was there. Will could feel it. He knew that something more could bloom between James and Celeste. Now, whether she was _the one _that he was supposed to find… he could only hope.

James's new fiancée certainly posed a problem that he had not been expecting. Had Tia foreseen that? _Probably, _he concluded with a growl. That seemed like something she would do, command something of him and then not tell him the _whole _story. This mission just seemed to be getting more and more complicated. Things just did not seem like they would work well. The one woman who Will thought might be good for Norrington, hate him, and James didn't seem to like Celeste too much either. _And _James was getting married to Lady Maria Beckett.

Will shook his head. "Think positive," he said aloud. Then he resolved himself to getting to work. He still had many shops and taverns to visit before nightfall. He hoped Celeste didn't get to any of them before him… and he hoped he didn't run out of money.

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**A/N- **Please review!

_Cet homme est absurdement intolérable_- That man is preposterously intolerable!

_Et les hommes anglais se glorifient sur leur conscience de convenance. Bah ! Convenance mon Ass. Cet homme n'est pas approprié du tout_- And English men pride themselves on their consciousness of propriety. Bah! Propriety my ass. That man is not proper at all.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N- **Thanks sooooo much for the reviews! I feel really supported. Just a note, I'm trying to make an effort to reply to all the reviews I get now, but if I don't reply to yours, it has nothing to do with whether or not I appreciate your review (I appreciate all reviews ; ) ). It's probably just because either I am really busy, or I forgot (and since I'm fairly scatter-brained, that might happen). But like I said, I'm going to _try _to reply to every review from now on : ).

**Chapter Eight**

Celeste came stumbling into the dining room later that night. Both Will and Norrington were already seated, conversing about something she didn't care one stitch about. Not one shop she had been to would hire her. Not _one_! After she had been to every baker, florist, and seamstress in Port Royal, asking if the owners needed any assistance and been turned down, she moved on to the taverns, even though she hated the thought of being a barmaid again. _Everyone _was able to think of _some _excuse. She didn't know _how _she was going to be able to survive without a job, much less pay back Will.

"Well, thank you for not starting dinner without me," she said sarcastically, her voice taking on an irritable tone. She sat down with the two men. Her glare passed over both of them, settling on Norrington and staying there. To her immense annoyance, the man appeared to be utterly unaffected. His eyes did not even meet hers. At least Will had the grace to look sheepish and mutter a barely understood "thank you" around his mouthful of food.

"Good evening to you too, Miss Dubois," Admiral Norrington said in a tone that made Celeste bristle. Finally his cool green eyes came up to her furious blue orbs. "And how did your job search go?"

Unfortunately for Norrington, he had picked the one topic that she was absolutely _not _willing to talk about. His words gave her a much desired excuse to lash out at somebody. He was her unlucky target. Her eyes blazed. "_That _is none of _your _business, _sir_," she snapped angrily. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss her failure with _that _man.

"Ah, so not so well then," he retorted with a small smirk.

Celeste jumped from her seat. How dare he? How _dare _he?! "You impudent man!" she shouted at him. He simply regarded her with one coolly raised eyebrow and his exasperating smirk. Since he was not rising to her bait, she continued. "You horrid, terrible _beast _of a man!"

"Beast?" Norrington queried with mock surprise, "How odd. And here I thought I was a…. Now, what did you say? A prissy English pig?"

Celeste's jaw dropped. How could _this _be the same man who was so embarrassed by her comments the day before. "You… _you_…" she stammered angrily. She was so furious that the words just wouldn't come. It made her even angrier. "I… _you_…!"

"Yes?" Norrington prompted sarcastically, "You were saying?"

"How dare you mock me!" she exclaimed with angry indignation, "I will not stand for this!"

"Would you like a seat then?" The exasperating man's eyes twinkled with mirth.

Celeste's eyes widened in rage, and she let out an angry growl. Why, _now _of all times, could she not think of anything witty to say? Rather than stand there any longer, looking like a fool. She turned and stormed out of the room.

The Admiral's chuckles taunted her all the way to her room.

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James leaned his head back and laughed. He couldn't help himself. The young woman was just so _flustered_…. It was priceless. Then a thought occurred to him. How long had it been since he laughed? Really laughed? A while certainly. He always had to be so serious. After all, how was an Admiral who went around laughing all the time rather than getting down to business supposed to gain respect from his men? And then, nothing had really given him cause for laughter in a while. The day before, Miss Dubois had caught him off guard with her insults. He was pleased that now he was prepared and not flustered. He was extremely glad that he had not blushed.

"Must you taunt her so?" Will asked exasperatedly, but James thought he saw the beginnings of a smile tugging at the younger man's lips.

"That young woman _needs_ someone to bring her down a few notches every once in a while," James said, looking in the direction that Miss Dubois had stalked off in, "For a barmaid you picked up in Tortuga, she certainly is an arrogant little thing."

Will gave him an unreadable look, but James just ignored it. Then Will cleared his throat uncomfortably, causing James to look up… and immediately be on guard. "Yes?" he said warily, wondering what had so suddenly put the man on edge.

"Well," Will said with a small shrug. He scratched behind his left ear as if stalling for time, wondering how to put something into words. "I was thinking that…. Well… what with you… new wife…."

James flinched at the word and immediately cut in, "She's not my wife yet."

That insistence seemed to make Will a bit more uncomfortable. "Of course…. Yes…. Well, um… with your… fiancée… on the way, I was thinking… that maybe you might… need another maid…."

James drew his brows together in puzzlement, not quite understanding, but an instant later realization dawned on him. His eyes widened in bewilderment, and he let out an amazed scoff. "You want me to hire _that_?!" he asked, shocked.

"Oh, she's not all that bad, James," Will began, "She's just a little…."

But James was becoming more and more agitated by the second. He interrupted him. "Not all that bad?!" he exclaimed, "Why, Will, if I hired Miss Dubois, I'd be lucky if she didn't throttle me in my sleep one night."

Will tried to change his mind. "She would certainly not do _that_," he soothed, but James was not so sure, "She's a… nice young woman who just needs a job."

"_Nice_?" James repeated disbelievingly. 'Nice' wasn't a word that came to mind when he thought of Miss Dubois.

"Yes," Will said firmly. He appeared more resolved now that he had started the conversation. He seemed determined to get James to hire the young lady. "You two just got off on the wrong foot."

James scoffed. "That seems to be an understatement," he grumbled. He might not know Celeste Dubois as well as he did some people, but he could already tell that he did not like the young woman. She was arrogant and clearly did not know her true place in the world. Maybe becoming his maid would teach her that she was not so high and mighty as she seemed to think… but he didn't know if he could put up with her.

"Please?" Will said, breaking into his thoughts. James could tell that Will really wanted this, though he wasn't exactly sure why. Maybe it was just that he cared for Celeste as a friend, or a sister, or something of the like, and just wanted her to be taken care of. James didn't really know.

He sighed. What was he getting himself into? "I'll consider it."

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"_No_!" Celeste growled, not for the first time.

"Celeste," Will pleaded, "It will not be as bad as you think. Just…."

"_No_! No, no, _no_! I will not," she interrupted him vehemently.

Will sighed in exasperation. He should have known that this would be even more difficult than it seemed. Celeste was a very stubborn woman.

After receiving James' admission that he would consider the proposition, Will had gone straight to Celeste's room and requested a private talk with her. Warily, she had accepted. As he looked at her blazing blue eyes and nostrils flared in fury, he thought back to James' words concerning her. 'An arrogant little thing' he had called her. That was enough to make Will want to laugh. _James _calling someone else arrogant? It was hysterical, but he had been able to keep his tongue. But he might have been right. Celeste's attitude and demeanor often spoke of a more refine upbringing, and while he wanted to press her for the information, that was not his concern at the moment.

He decided that he needed to get tough.

"Miss Dubois," he began coldly, "If you do not take this job and use your wages to pay me back for what I have loaned you, I will see to it that you are on the next ship bound for Tortuga before you can blink. Would you like to go back to serving lecherous drunks for a living?"

Celeste stared at him. Suddenly, the fire was gone from her eyes, replaced by an uneasy carefulness. She was going to test him. "You wouldn't dare," she said slowly.

Will's eyes were as hard as ice. "Oh really?" he asked.

She became emboldened. "Really," she repeated. She crossed her arms under her breasts and leaned on one hip. "I don't think you are cold hearted enough to do that," she told him, one eyebrow cocked over her pale blue eyes. "You wouldn't."

Will took a deep breath. "Alright," he said simply. He turned and began to walk away.

"You're going to tell Admiral Norrington that I will not work for him?" Celeste questioned. He could tell by the tone of her voice that she suspected nothing else.

"No," he said with a quick shake of his head, "I'm going to book passage for you to Tortuga." He continued to walk away.

"Will! Wait!"

He quickly forced the grin off his face as he turned around. "Yes," he prompted, voice devoid of all emotion.

"Don't send me back to Tortuga," she said, for once vulnerability showing in the depths of those icy blue spheres, "I'll do it."

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	9. Chapter 9

**A/N- **Thanks for the reviewers! Hugs for everyone : ) Oh, I saw AWE recently, and first of all, for those of you who have not seen it: GO NOW!!! It is awesome! Lol. But, it makes my story rather AU now.

**Chapter Nine**

"Miss Dubois? Miss Dubois?!"

"_What_?!" Celeste growled, throwing off the _rude_ hand of whoever was shaking her shoulder violently. Whatever _unfortunate _person had so foolishly chosen to startle her awake in the early morning hours would pay dearly. She opened one eye and squinted at the young maid who was shaking her. "_What _do you _want_?" Celeste bit out slowly as she glared.

The maid, who was a few years younger than herself she guessed, blushed. "I'm sorry, Miss," she said, "But Mrs. Pierson sent me to wake you. We are to help prepare the table for Admiral Norrington's breakfast."

_Then _Celeste remembered. Today was the first day of her new job. She rolled over onto her back, and glared up at the young woman angrily. She knew that she shouldn't be taking her anger out on her, but she couldn't help it. She was furious, and she needed to lash out at someone.

With an audible huff, Celeste threw her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. She squinted as she looked toward the window, expecting to see bright sunshine pouring in, but to her surprise there was only a faint gray dawn. "The Admiral is an early riser, I see," she mumbled half to herself as she made her way over to the closet where her dresses were kept.

"Um, Miss," the young woman said from behind her.

Celeste turned away from the dress she had picked up and regarded her with one coolly raised eyebrow. "I will only need a minute to get dressed," she said. When the other woman just stood there fidgeting, she sighed impatiently. "A moment please," she said icily.

The maid fidgeted nervously for another instant then said, "Mrs. Pierson told me to tell you that you are to wear these." She held out a bundle of clothes towards Celeste.

Celeste looked at the bundle distastefully as she held it at arms length. The clothes weren't ugly, but she had been looking forward to being able to dress in some of the few nice dresses she had left. She supposed Norrington had to take that away from her as well. "And this is?" she prompted haughtily.

The woman looked at her as if she were daft. "Why, Miss, it's the servants' livery," she explained slowly, sounding as though Celeste was the biggest dolt she had ever seen, "Your uniform."

Celeste sighed wearily. "I _know_ that," she stated exasperatedly, "This just isn't the type of dress I'm really used to."

The maid's forehead creased as she thought. "But, Miss Dubois, I thought you were a… erm… barmaid… in… in... Tortuga." She whispered the last word as if simply saying the name of that place would invoke the wrath of all that was good and holy.

But what caught Celeste's attention more was the way she said 'barmaid.' It was obvious to her that the young maid did not think that she was a barmaid. She would clear up that notion before she had a chance to spread rumors. "I wasn't a whore if that's what you're thinking."

The younger woman blushed deeply. She fumbled over her words for a few moments before finally managing. "No! Oh, no! Of course not…! I mean I would never…!"

Celeste cut her off. "Don't worry about it," she said, voice full of irritation, waving a hand dismissively, "I know what people think about Tortuga, and for the most part they're right. It makes them assume that about me even thought it's not true." Her eyes blazed with anger. "Just don't make the mistake again."

"O… of course," the maid stammered nervously.

Celeste nodded shortly, and then the young maid began to help her dress. At first they moved in tense silence, but finally with a sigh Celeste asked, "What is your name?" She knew that she couldn't go on treating the other woman poorly. After all, it wasn't her fault that she had to wake up early and wear maid's clothes. Nor were all of Celeste's other troubles the young woman's fault. As much as she would have loved to have lashed out at her further, Celeste knew that she should not. Making more enemies than she could handle in her new workplace was not a smart move. After all, she already had her new employer against her.

"My name?" the young woman repeated with a pleased smile, "I'm Maria, Miss. Maria Robinson."

Celeste forced a smile. It didn't come out half as happy as she wanted it to be, but it almost did the job. "Well then, Maria," she said, "Since we are going to be working together, there is no need for this formality. My given name is Celeste. Call me by it."

Maria's smile grew even wider. Almost all of her small white teeth were visible, and there was a deep dimple in her left cheek. Celeste thought she looked more like a little girl than a young woman. "That I'll do, Celeste," she said happily, "I'm so happy you'll be working here. For so long there hasn't been another woman close to my age working with me. I have a feeling we'll be great friends."

Though Celeste couldn't muster the enthusiasm that Maria showed, she managed another small smile.

Maria continued to chipper excitedly as they walked down the hall and the stairs towards the breakfast room. "You may not think so now," she was saying, "But I know you will love working for Mr. Norrington."

Celeste scoffed and then gaped at her.

"No! Really," Maria persisted with a short laugh, "You will. You may not like him now, but…." She trailed off with a wistful sigh, and she had a dreamy look in her light brown eyes. "He is a fine man."

Celeste's chin dropped even further. Then she suddenly let out a loud laugh. "Ooooh," she drawled out slowly, looking at Maria slyly from the corner of her eye, "Someone is infatuated with her employer."

Maria's cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. "I… I… I am most certainly not!" she exclaimed, trying to look indignant, but her blushing cheeks gave away her true feelings. "You are mistaken. He… he is my employer. I feel nothing for him… other than respect."

But Celeste did not plan to let the issue go so easily. "Oh, it's alright," she said with a smirk, "You can have him. I find the man prudish and utterly intolerable."

For the first time since she had met her, Maria seemed offended. "Don't speak of Mr. Norrington so," she scolded, "You hardly know him yet. It's not your place to judge."

Celeste raised her eyebrows. "Well, everyone here seems to have a wonderful opinion of him," she mused, "But I will not change mine until I'm given proof that he is as good a man as you all seem to think."

"If you open your eyes, you'll see," Maria assured her. Then she sighed desolately. "But it doesn't matter anyway. You see, he's already in love."

"Oh yes, something was mentioned about a fiancée," Celeste replied in a bored voice.

Maria's eyes widened. "No, not _her_," she exclaimed, grabbing Celeste's arm and pulling her to a stop. She leaned in confidentially. "Miss Elizabeth Swann."

Celeste crinkled her nose as she mused. "I don't think I recognize the name."

"She was the governor's daughter," Maria explained, "Or rather, is the governor's daughter. No one really knows what's become of her now. She was engaged to be married to Mr. Norrington back when he was the commodore. Then at his promotion ceremony, an infamous pirate by the name of Jack Sparrow showed up. Well, there was a big to do, and no one who wasn't involved is really certain of the exact goings on, but when they all returned, Miss Swann had rejected Mr. Norrington for Mr. Turner."

This piqued Celeste's interest. "Will?" she breathed. She recalled the first night she had met him and how when he was drunk he had mentioned that he was supposed to be married, but wasn't. It seemed as if this Elizabeth had spurned him as well.

"Yes," Maria said with a nod, "But now that Mr. Turner is back, I don't know where she is. Everyone assumed that she would be with him." Her expression saddened. "I know that Mr. Norrington must be heartbroken thinking of how she may not be well."

"No wonder there was so much tension between the two of them when we first arrived at Port Royal," Celeste mused, half to herself. She wondered why there seemed to be a sudden understanding or even friendship between the two. Was it because the Norrington knew that Will had also been scorned by this woman?

The two women walked the rest of the way to the kitchen in thoughtful silence. This was some new information that had Celeste rather intrigued. It offered a key to some of the answers she had been wondering about. Now, she at least knew who Will's mystery woman was. It was a new and interesting piece of information that she was also Norrington's former fiancée.

But her ponderings were interrupted as she walked into the kitchen. Mrs. Pierson jumped the two of them before they had taken two steps inside. "Maria!" the old woman panted as she wiped her meaty hands on her white apron, "There you two are. I was wondering if you would stay upstairs and chit-chat the day away." She took a deep breath. "Benjamin…." She turned to Celeste and explained, "Mr. Norrington's manservant, is in bed with a fever." She pointed her finger at Celeste. "You go and wake the master."

"What?" Celeste asked with irritation, but Mrs. Pierson had already moved on and was now ordering Maria and a few other maids around the kitchen. With a sigh, she turned and moved back up the stairs towards Norrington's quarters.

Upon reaching her destination, she knocked softly on the door. When there was no answer, she took it upon herself to enter. To her surprise, the room was not lavish or filled with unnecessary frivolities. She was a little displeased as well. She had been hoping that the room would be full of frills and such so she would have one more thing to dislike him and make fun of him for, but alas that was not the case.

The man himself lay on his back on a good sized bed with clean white sheets. His hands were folded just so over his chest. He looked proper and composed even in sleep. The only thing different about him was that his white wig was discarded on a stand on a small table by his bed. His dark hair framed his slender face nicely and made him look younger… and as much as Celeste hated to admit it, it made him look attractive as well. She banished that thought from her head as quickly as it came. It didn't matter if he was attractive or not. He was still a terrible, terrible man…. Well, maybe not exactly terrible, but she still didn't like him.

Suddenly getting an idea, she took the wig off its stand. She smirked as she came to stand in front of the full body mirror. She cleared her throat loudly as she sat the wig upon her own head. "I am Admiral Norrington," she stated in a deep voice as she lifted her chin, pointing her nose high in the air, "I command the seas and scourge piracy everywhere. I am God's gift to humanity." She knew that in reality he was not so arrogant, but the exaggeration made her whole charade more fun.

She waltzed around the room for a few more minutes wearing the wig. She placed her hands on her hips and did impressions of the Admiral to the best of her ability. Again, she exaggerated more than a bit, but it was humorous, and she thoroughly enjoyed herself.

Finally, she decided that it was time to wake the beast. She warily walked over to the edge of the bed and looked down at him. Then she reached down and lightly tapped his shoulder. "Admiral Norrington," she called softly, "Oh, Admiral, wake up." When he didn't flinch, she drummed the tips of her fingers on his forehead, but still he didn't wake. "Mr. Norrington!" Her voice rose a few decibels. "Norrington, it's time to get up. Wake up!"

She repeated this routine a few times, but still he didn't wake. A soft snoring noise emitted from his nose. Her eyes scanned the room and landed on his washbasin, full of water. Her eyes widened, and immediately her more sensible half told her that it was a bad idea. A _very _bad idea. Bad. Bad. Bad. _Bad. _But her other half, the half that usually made the decisions, was smiling devilishly. She knew it would get her into trouble. Probably a lot of trouble, but somehow, that mattered not. Against her better judgment, she walked over to the table where the washbasin sat and lifted it. Water sloshed over the sides as she carried it over to the bedside. Looking down on the still sleeping Admiral Norrington, she thought once again that she should return the basin to the table, but before her feet could take her back, her arms had turned the basin upside down.

Celeste found that that method was much more affective in waking the Admiral.

"What the…!" he spluttered as the cold water splashed over his face and body. His arms flailed in the air quite comically, and Celeste couldn't suppress her laughter.

That was a mistake.

Norrington's eyes popped open, and it was like looking down into orbs of furious green flames. She wouldn't admit it even to herself, but his blazing gaze frightened her. It was as if his eyes could burn right through her.

"_What_," he bit out angrily through gritted teeth, "the _bloody Hell_ do you think you are doing, Miss Dubois?!" He was sitting up now, and his chest heaved with ire. Unwillingly, her eyes were drawn to the sight. The water she had thrown on him had plastered his white night shirt to him, and it complemented his form rather pleasantly she had to admit. His dark hair stuck to the sharp angles of his face, and once again she was struck with how handsome he looked. Maybe Maria wasn't so daft after all.

She shook her head slightly and sought for how to answer. "You wouldn't wake no matter how hard I tried, sir," she said. Her voice was not quite meek but not quite defiant. She did her best to look innocent. "So I did the only thing I could think to do to wake you."

His nostrils flared angrily. "Don't you think you could have resorted to a more _appropriate _solution?!"

Celeste smiled too sweetly and shrugged. "Forgive me, sir. I'm but a lowly maid, not a scholar."

He glared and opened his mouth to berate her further, but he caught off suddenly, his gaze shifting upwards. Puzzled, she wrinkled her brow, but then all too late she realized what he was staring at.

"Playing at being Admiral, Miss Dubois?" He asked slowly, voice still simmering with anger.

She had forgotten to remove the wig.

"I… erm… I… ummm…. Well… uh…." She couldn't think of anything at all to say. Why was it that when she needed it least, a witty remark was just on the edge of her tongue, but when she needed it most, wit was no where to be found. She shut her mouth and ripped the wig off her head. Hurriedly, she thrust it at him. "Here," she said quickly, "Breakfast is being prepared. Good morning."

She nearly ran out of the room.

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**A/N- **Well, I hope you all liked this chapter. Please review!


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N- **I cannot thank you all enough for all your kind reviews. I have to apologize for not having kept my promise to reply to all my reviews. My schedule is kind of hectic at the moment, and it's all I can do to get my updates out in a decent time frame. I'm sure you all understand. Thanks again for reviewing : ) 

**Chapter Ten**

James didn't know whether he should be infuriated or amused. He supposed he was a bit of both. The young woman's face when she realized that she was wearing his wig had been too priceless. It was the first time in the two days of their acquaintance that he had seen Miss Dubois look so flustered. It served her right too, after what she did to him. His sopping wet clothes now hung off the edge of his windowsill to dry, and he was sure that it would take the whole day. Never before in his adult life had he been so rudely awakened!

He sighed and shook his head as he stood in front of the mirror. He knew that the woman would be no less than maddening. "What has Will gotten me into?" he breathed. He righted his wig one last time- the thing didn't fit quite right what with his hair soaked- and moved towards the exit of his chamber.

As he walked into the kitchen, his head maid was the first to greet him. "Ah, Mrs. Pierson," he said, even as she opened her mouth to speak, "Just the woman that I wanted to see."

He watched as Miss Dubois shuffled over to the far corner of the room. He looked on out of the corner of his eye as she pretended to busy herself with some silverware. A small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, but he was careful not to look at her to pointedly. He thought it best to let the wretched woman squirm for awhile, not knowing what he would do as her punishment. It was no less than what she deserved.

"And what is it you wanted to speak with me about, sir?" Mrs. Pierson asked, apparently not noticing the way he watched Miss Dubois.

James leaned in towards her and spoke quietly so as not to be heard by the other servants. "I want to know why is it that I was not awakened by my manservant this morning?" he asked, "I hope there's a good reason." Yes, there had better be. He knew that if Benjamin had come to wake him rather than Miss Dubois, his clothes wouldn't be hanging out to dry at the moment.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir," Mrs. Pierson said, "I thought that Celeste would have explained that to you when she woke you. Did she not?"

James' eyes darted to the corner to see Miss Dubois stiffen when her name was spoken. This time he let his eyes linger on her coolly, letting her know that he was watching her. "No. No, she did not," he said slowly, still watching her, "She must have had other things on her mind." Miss Dubois hurriedly looked the other way, and James smirked again. He turned back to Mrs. Pierson. "Now what is the matter with Benjamin?"

The old woman waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, just a fever," she said, "It is nothing urgent. Just any typical fever. He will be well within two days. Wait and see."

"I'm sure you are right, Mrs. Pierson," James replied absently. His thoughts were still on his new maid rather than his manservant. He was sure that Benjamin would be fine. What he wasn't sure of was whether or not he could survive a week… no, a day… or more accurately, another second… with Celeste Dubois. He shook his head slightly. "Now, what's for breakfast?"

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"You mean, you know absolutely nothing of my daughter?!" Governor Weatherby Swann's face was the epitome of fear and fatherly concern. His already wrinkled face had grown more creased as he drew his brows together in thought and worry.

Will had received a note first thing upon waking that morning. It had been from Governor Swann, requesting to see him as soon as possible. When the governor had learned that Will was back in Port Royal, he had hoped that Will could offer him some information about Elizabeth. Will hated that he had had to dissuade that notion. "I'm sorry, Governor Swann," he said sadly, "I do not know where she is." As much as he tried, he knew he did not succeed in hiding his despair.

Weatherby's face did not look much different than his own. "Oh," he moaned as he lowered his face to his hands, "No. I was so sure that you would know of her, be able to tell me something. I've worried for her so. Oh, how much I long to see her again!" Then suddenly he seemed to realize that he was pouring his soul out in front of Will. He cleared his throat. "So, William, tell me what happened?" In other words: 'How is it that you are here and my daughter is not?'

Will also cleared his throat. He found the situation uncomfortable at best. He knew that before the whole ordeal with Beckett, leading up to his and Elizabeth's separation, Governor Swann had not entirely approved of the two young people's union. After all, Will was simply a blacksmith… or maybe a pirate. Either way, Elizabeth was the governor's daughter, a noble lady. A marriage between two people like them was not exactly something you saw every day.

"Well," he began, "When we went to go save Jack, Beckett found us, and there was a stand off. I was separated from everyone else, and I have no memory of how I wound up in Tortuga a few weeks ago. I know I must have been injured and that is why I don't remember." It wasn't the entire truth, but it wasn't a huge lie. He knew that that explanation did not do the actual happenings justice, but he did not want to go into further detail. Nor was he very keen on informing the governor of his daughter's connections with Jack.

The governor's face twisted in anger. "None of this would have happened if she hadn't gotten involved with those… those… bloody pirates!" he exclaimed furiously, "If not for that wretched Jack Sparrow and others of his like, my little girl would still be here with me, not off in God knows where doing God knows what…. If she's even… still alive." Once again his face dropped to his hands, and although no sound proved it, Will knew he was crying. "Please," he mumbled a moment later, "Just leave me. Thank you for coming at my request, but I'd rather be alone right now."

Will nodded then silently walked away. He knew how the old man was feeling, for he had felt the same way. Elizabeth had changed the lives that she had walked into, and now that she was gone, he knew that things would never be the same…. Unless she came back. He shook his head again. He couldn't let himself hope for that. It would only make the heartbreak worse when she never returned. Perhaps she was just too flighty and free to settle down with a husband. Who was he to chain such a woman? Although he would have made sure they had a wonderful life together.

He walked down the street back to the blacksmith's shop that he worked at. It was the same shop that he had worked out before Beckett arrived at Port Royal with a warrant for his arrest. He was glad he was able to obtain work there now, for blacksmithing was his trade. As he made his way there, he forced his mind away from Elizabeth and wondered how James and Celeste were getting along on Celeste's first day working for him. A smile stole itself onto his mouth. Most likely they had already fought multiple times.

Not for the first time, he thought on how to get them to fall in love. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Celeste was the one for James. They were very similar, and Will could picture them living together and raising a family. But could he make the two of them see that? Their problem was stubbornness. Both of them were stubborn to the bone, and that made things more difficult. But Will thought if he could get at least one of them to realize how perfect they would be together then everything would fall into place.

Then there was some trouble about Celeste's upbringing. Would James marry someone who Will had picked up from Tortuga? As far as Will knew, she was just a common girl, and he knew from experience that marriage between commoners and people of high society were frowned upon. Then again, how did they know that Celeste was a commoner? Nothing had been said about her past other than she was from France. She could very well be the daughter of a French lord for all they knew. Will decided that he needed to get Celeste to open up about her history. He wondered if she would talk willingly or if he would have to manipulate answers from her. He knew that she was the kind of woman who would hold back information just to vex him, so he better prepare to manipulate. Even so, finding out whether James and Celeste would be a good match socially was just a small step in a big process.

Will sighed. He had a lot of work to do.

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"_C'est horrible!_"(This is horrid!) Celeste mumbled as she scrubbed the kitchen floors, "_Homme misérable misérable misérable!_"(Wretched, wretched, wretched man!). She knew that Norrington had ordered her to scrub the floors simply because he didn't like her. There were plenty of other less disgusting tasks that she could have been doing.

"Oh, do stop sulking, Celeste!" urged Maria who was scrubbing right alongside her, "We'll be done in a matter of moments if you would just hush up that whining and do your job."

"Oh!" Celeste's eyes blazed as she looked to the other young woman, "How dare you?! I am not sulking! Or being whiny!"

Maria rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I don't speak French, so I have no idea what you said a moment ago, but I can tell by your tone and expression that you _were _whining, and you _are _sulking."

Celeste just gaped at her. How was it that the woman could be so meek and quiet that morning and then boldly accuse her of whining and sulking in the afternoon? Where did this sudden burst of gumption come from? She shook her head and went back to angrily scrubbing.

"Don't be mad at me now, dear," Maria said after a moment, reverting back to her former sweetness, "I was just saying. I don't mean to offend, but why is it that you act like you are a high society lady rather than a maid?"

Celeste bristled, but she knew that to Maria the statement was an innocent question not an insult, so she held her tongue. She didn't think she could keep back her biting retort if she tried to answer the question though, so she ignored it and replied instead, "I'm not angry with you." Her voice was rather unconvincing.

"I'm glad," the younger woman answered, smiling. Celeste was just discovering that Maria was one of the few people she found it difficult to be angry with. After a few moments more of scrubbing in silence, Maria asked, "What happened when you went to wake the Admiral this morning? The two of you seemed rather on edge, and I couldn't help but notice that you kept stealing murderous looks at him all through breakfast. When he ordered you to bring him tea, I worried that you would dump the whole pot on his head."

Celeste blushed slightly. That remark came all too close to what had conspired between the two of them in the bedroom. "Umm… nothing really," she replied quickly, "It's just I don't like the terrible man at all, but you already know that."

Maria shook her head with a softly murmured, "You'll change your mind."

Celeste _highly _doubted that. _Very _highly.

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**A/N- **Sorry for the strange formatting... I really have no idea why my computer did that, but I'll try to fix it somehow.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N-** Sorry it has taken me longer than usual to get this chapter out, but I have been really busy. Thanks again for reviewing!

**Chapter Eleven**

The waves rolled, golden sunlight glittering on their blue green hues. It was a beautiful sight. The fickle sea chose to be tranquil today, something that all were glad for. No storm darkened the horizon. Even so, Elizabeth could not smile. It seemed that every part of her that could laugh or smile or joke had died. Died back at World's End along with her heart.

It had been weeks, but she still couldn't get over it. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face. His skin was pale, sickly so, and pasty. A trickled of crimson red blood ran from the corner of his mouth as he gasped for breath. His hands- strong, firm hands that had once held her so tightly- weakly fumbled at his middle… where dark blood oozed out of the open wound. Then slowly, ever so slowly, his dark eyes began to glaze over. The spark of life that had been there was diminishing. Her brain could hardly fathom the sight. He had always been so full of life. Never could she recall a time when those beautiful eyes looked so blank.

Will Turner gasped his last breath and never breathed again.

At first, she hadn't been able to do anything, even cry. It had taken Jack and Gibbs, one grabbing each of her arms, to drag her away from the corpse just before another attack came. Elizabeth had fought them. How could she leave Will there alone?! He wouldn't have left her! But they were stronger than she, and in the end, she agreed with them. Why stay? She couldn't bring back the dead.

Then when they were finally out of the real danger and she had had time to think, that was when it all hit her. The finality of it knocked the breath out of her lungs. Will was never coming back. She would never see his face, nor hear his voice again. She would never become Mrs. Elizabeth Turner. She would never feel his arms encircle her in their loving embrace. Never would she hear him whisper sweet words of tender love as he kissed her again and again. Never would they make love.

When the reality of all those things fully hit her, she couldn't stop crying. She locked herself in her cabin and sobbed for days. After all, Beckett and his men seemed to have taken off, probably to regroup and strategize. She had time to wallow in her sorrow and self pity. How could this happen to her? WHY?! She wanted to know what she had done to deserve such a fate. Maybe it was what she had deserved. Could this be her punishment for scorning James and then, later when she was still betrothed to Will, desiring Jack?

Elizabeth suspected that that might be the case. Tears sprung to her eyes as she stood at the bow of the _Black Pearl_. She was a horrible woman and had only herself to blame. She should have known that fate might have taken this turn. _But why couldn't fate just make him leave me? _she wondered in anguish. She would rather him have left her for another woman than die. At least he would still be alive. Now, he wasn't, and she worried it was her fault.

And she hadn't even had the chance to formally apologize to him for kissing Jack. Yes, they had come to a sort of understanding, and at least he had died knowing that she loved him. Surely, she had left no doubt…. Had she? She stopped crying and her brow furrowed in thought. What if he didn't…? No, of course he knew… but…. Elizabeth was recalling all those times he had glanced at her coolly when all she wanted him to do was take her in his arms. She hadn't thought much of it then. She had assumed it to be a reaction to all the stress and sorrow around them. But now she remembered the despair she had seen in those glances. She supposed her mind had subconsciously masked them for her, knowing that she could not handle thinking of how much pain she had caused him. Now, everything was becoming clear.

"He didn't know," she breathed, bringing her hand up to her mouth, "Oh, God, he thought…! No!" Her eyes widened in horror, and the tears that she had banished came flooding back.

She felt sick. It was all she could do not to lean over the railing of the ship and spew all the contents of her stomach up into the briny sea. Will had died thinking she didn't love him. He had thought she wanted to be with Jack. Elizabeth clutched her hands to her middle, trying to will away the nausea rising up within her. Yes, for a time in Will's absence, she had been attracted to Jack, and when she kissed him she had certainly felt something. But what she felt for Jack was like a candle beside the sun when compared with the way she felt about Will. Her desire for Jack was fleeting, a product of the time and situation. Her longing and love for will was constant and unchanging. She had felt that way about him for years, and nothing would ever be able to make her stop.

Aside from death.

Elizabeth shook her head. No. Death was not the end. She would love Will forever. She would never stop. When the bones of generations unborn lay as dust in the ground, she would still love Will. She knew that when she died she would be reunited with him. She had always gone to church as a girl. Well, if the stories were true, and there really was a heaven, then Will would be waiting for her there.

And if there was any justice at all in the world, somehow he would already know that she _did _love him. Him and no other.

With that conviction, Elizabeth sniffed and wiped the tears from her eyes. She had things to do now. She couldn't keep dwelling on this. She pushed her hand into the pocket of her coat and pulled out the compass. It was Jack's 'broken' one. They had given it to her to use now, for she was the one who wanted to get to their destination with the most conviction, and they needed a heading, for they were a bit lost. A few days back, storms had knocked them off course and left them disoriented. They had been hard to sail through, but finally they were out, and the weather was looking infinitely better.

Hopefully the journey home would be this peaceful.

Yes, home. The word sent warmth flowing through her veins. Never before did she think she would long to see Port Royal as she did now. Maybe it was her utter loneliness that made her so homesick; she didn't know. At least when she got to Port Royal, she wouldn't be so alone. She would get to see her father. A small, bittersweet smile came to her lips then. She wondered how he was doing. He was getting old. Hopefully, he was taking care of himself well.

Elizabeth pushed her thoughts away, cleared her mind of everything but one thought. She held the compass up in front of her. _Port Royal. Port Royal. Port Royal. _The compass spun and spun until she thought it would never stop. Then finally it slowed… and stopped. She smiled. "Mr. Gibbs, we have a heading!" she called, running over to where the older man stood at the wheel.

"So we do, Miss," he replied boisterously as he took the compass from her hands, "Finally we'll be able to get somewhere." He turned to his left where Pintel and Ragetti were bickering about something loudly. "Hey, you two, stop messing around and go tell Jack we've got a heading." The comical duo scampered off in the direction Gibbs pointed out.

Elizabeth turned away, feeling a little better than she had before. They were still quite a ways away, but she was fairly sure that they would be able to make it to Port Royal by her father's sixty-first birthday in two weeks.

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"I really don't know what the problem is." Dr. Joseph Martin shook his head of thinning white hair as he furrowed his brow in thought. He reached up to scratch a bald spot on the top of his head as he pondered the problem.

"You mean you can't tell me what is ailing him?" James asked impatiently. Mrs. Pierson had been wrong when she said that Benjamin would be well within a few days. It had been almost a week, and his manservant was getting worse and worse by the day. He had sent for the doctor two days before, and finally when he arrived, he didn't know what the problem was.

The doctor bowed his head and shrugged his frail shoulders uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, sir," he insisted awkwardly, "I just… well, umm… erm…." James was prepared to let the man flounder. He wasn't in the least bit happy that this old quack could not provide him with any information. But right then the door opened and Celeste walked in.

She didn't spare a glance for either of the men. Instead, her intelligent blue eyes were fixed on the sick man in the bed. In her arms, she carried wet towels to place on Benjamin's forehead and soothe the hot fever that was burning him up from the inside out. James had to give her credit for one thing: she didn't shrink from a sickroom. Since James first realized that Benjamin didn't have just a simple fever, she had been there whenever she was needed to give whatever aid she could. Many women would have cringed at doing such work, but even when Benjamin was vomiting up blood and foul smelling bile, Celeste was there to help.

As much as he hated to admit it, a grudging respect for her was growing inside him. He could hardly believe it. He still didn't like her very much. No, he thought she would most likely always be an infuriating and difficult woman, but he could not deny that he was beginning to respect her.

But she was still an enigma to him. James couldn't figure out exactly how to view her. Subtle things that she said, the way she held herself, made him think that she could not have always been a commoner. Her speech patterns were too elegant, too refined. And those eyes…. Even when she tried to be meek and submissive, those eyes glared out at him like two pale blue flames of defiance.

Then other things spoke of a common raising. The way she didn't shrink from dirty work, such as cleaning up after a sick man, didn't point to an aristocratic upbringing. Still, he reasoned that she couldn't have always been this way. He wondered what had happened to her. What had changed her from the lady he was sure she had been to the common maid she was now?

James shook his head, trying to force his mind back to the present situation. Celeste was sitting on the edge of Benjamin's bed, leaning over the man. He was a terrible sight to see. If not for the unhealthy shade of green tinting it, his skin would have perfectly matched the pure white sheets he laid on. He let out a soft relieved moan as Celeste pressed the cool towel to his hot forehead. She brushed his sweaty blonde hair back off his forehead and murmured soothing words of comfort until he quieted.

"Miss! Miss!" Dr. Martin was saying urgently, "Miss, move away from there! It's very probable that whatever is ailing him is contagious, and with you sitting in such close quarters, you are bound to catch it. Back up. You don't want to fall ill yourself, do you? And as likely as not if you get it, you pass it to the other servants, and they'll pass it on, and then we'll have an epidemic on our hands."

Celeste scowled at him for a moment, but she acquiesced with his request, moving to the window at the far side of the room. Still, when she reached her destination, she sullenly folded her arms and glared coldly at the doctor. "Happy?" she asked, voice dripping with venom.

Dr. Martin, obviously not realizing that she looked as if she might very well do physical harm to his person, smiled triumphantly. "Yes," he told her, "Very much so."

Eyes burning with indignation, Celeste opened her mouth to emit a biting retort, but James forestalled her. As much as he enjoyed seeing her flustered, he had better things to do than watch her bandy words with this witless doctor. "Is there anything you can do or not, Dr. Martin?" he queried, "For if there is nothing you can administer to my servant, then you may leave. You don't want to be falling ill yourself, do you?" He smirked, and behind him at the window, he heard Celeste's poorly muffled giggle.

The doctor's face went blood red and he stuttered, searching for words. "I… ummm… erm well… I…. Uh, just take this…." He began to rummage through the bag. James could hear glass bottles and supplies clinking together. "Aha!" he exclaimed as he pulled out a small phial, "Here it is. Have him drink this tonight and then twice a day from now until he is well. It's a mixture of herbal extracts. It won't heal him, but it certainly won't worsen his condition, and there's a chance that it will make him take a turn for the better." He nodded for emphasis then continued. "You'll have to force him to drink it because it is rather foul tasting, and he won't want to take it willingly."

James took the phial from Dr. Martin's hand. "Thank you, doctor," he said, "Now, if that's all, I appreciate you dropping by…." _Though you did little to help_, he added silently. "But if that's all you may leave."

Quickly bowing his head, the doctor did just that. As the door closed behind him, James let out a sigh. He rubbed his hand across his forehead wearily. Celeste 'hmmphed' and walked pointedly back to Benjamin's bedside. She adjusted his covers in a motherly way and dabbed off some sweat on his cheek. "That doctor wasn't much help at all," she stated.

James wasn't sure if she was talking to herself or not, but he decided to reply anyway. "No, not much at all, but at least we do have this." He held aloft the small bottle and gave it a little shake. "Although I don't know how much it will do."

She huffed. "Probably not much."

James smiled a bit at her comment then he turned his attention back to the bottle he held. He popped the cork out of it and held it up to his nose. Immediately, he jerked his face away and made a sound of revulsion. "I can't imagine how terrible this really does taste if it smells this horrible." He looked over to Celeste to see that she was holding her hand up to her mouth trying to hide her laughter. For the first time, her eyes did not look upon him coldly but smilingly. It made him smile himself. Then he realized that this was the first time since their meeting that they were not fighting tooth and nail. For a moment, they held each other's gaze, and he knew that she was realizing the same thing.

Soon, she cleared her throat and looked away. "You may go if you wish, sir," she told him as she once again fussed with Benjamin's pillow. The man was asleep now. "I will stay here and take care of him."

He cleared his throat, wanting to thank her for taking so much initiative in taking care of his sick servant, but he could not forget the times that she had scathed him with biting remarks with her witty tongue. Despite their brief moment of tranquility, he knew her well enough to know that at any moment, if he said the least little offensive thing, she could turn back into her usual, disagreeable self. Still, he swallowed back as much of his pride as he could and forced out his gratitude. "Thank you, Miss Dubois, for putting such an effort into helping Benjamin. I appreciate it."

Celeste waved her hand dismissively. "It's nothing really," she insisted, "I'm the only one who's really willing to do it. Well, aside from Mrs. Pierson, but if she left her duties overseeing the other servants then your whole household would fall apart." James smiled, knowing the truth of her words. "Having worked in a bar in Tortuga, I'm rather used to work that's not exactly… ideal." Her eyes fell, and he could tell that she was uncomfortable with talking about her former occupation. He let the subject drop despite his curiosity.

"Well," he said, "Just the same, I thank you."

"You're welcome, sir," she replied quietly. James could see that she had now retreated back within her hard outer shell. He knew that trying to engage her in conversation now would be futile, and he didn't really mind that. The fact that they were not yelling at each other was quite unnerving, and he did not know how much more he wanted to test it. Besides, he had things that needed doing.

"I will send someone in to relieve you shortly," he told her politely before walking out the door. When he was halfway down the hall, he paused, a thought suddenly occurring to him. When had he started thinking of her on a first name basis? Well, he supposed that as long as he remembered to address her as 'Miss Dubois' out loud, then it didn't matter. He shook his head and walked on.

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After the Admiral left, Celeste had gone to stand at the window. As she looked out, she pondered the sudden truce between she and James. She assumed that it would be brief, for, of course, she could not be expected to always be so agreeable. She told herself that the effort had almost been too much already.

Then she heard Maria's words from a few days before running through her brain: _"You'll change your mind."_

No! Of course not. She wasn't changing her mind about James Norrington. She was still sure that he was a very difficult and disagreeable man. Just because he was polite and even kind one day did not mean he would be the next. Tomorrow, he would most likely be as much of a beast as he usually was. James just must have been in a better mood today than he usually was.

Though, even if she thought that he was an utterly infuriating man, maybe she could admit that he was a good man. Even as she had the thought, she scowled, but she knew that it was true. As reluctant as she was to admit it, James was a good man… or at least decent. After all, she could see in his dark green eyes how worried he was about Benjamin, and how many other noblemen cared so much about 'their help?'

She shook her head. Why was she thinking about him so much anyway? James wasn't anything special. He…. Wait. Celeste paused. When did she start thinking of him as 'James' rather than 'Admiral Norrington?'

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**A/N- **So what did ya'll think of this chapter? I hope you liked it. Let me know : )


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